


keep pushing back the time to call it quits

by smc_27



Category: The Society (TV 2019)
Genre: F/M, also in cahoots, they were sleeping together all along
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-22
Updated: 2020-10-22
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:29:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 27,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27153865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smc_27/pseuds/smc_27
Summary: His room feels differently in the daytime. Less like some weird boy cave. Full of natural light coming through the windows. Everything feels lighter and she does, too, unencumbered by the thought that people downstairs might’ve seen them coming up, or the idea that Cassandra would be disappointed. Because Allie’s already done this once before, so what’s there to worry about doing it again?
Relationships: Harry Bingham/Allie Pressman
Comments: 16
Kudos: 91





	keep pushing back the time to call it quits

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Back with more canon 'verse fic. Basically everything is the same as canon with one key exception, and that is that Allie and Will never sleep together. 
> 
> This fic is an imagining of one of my fave things to think about: what if they were sleeping together the whole time?

She has a shower after the looting and the fires and the rainstorm and the having sex with Harry at a party. Because Cassandra is being positively icy and Allie both can’t handle that and also wants to busy herself with something that means Cassandra can’t talk to her about it even if she wants to. Like, yeah, they tell each other almost everything, but Allie feels distinctly like the status of her virginity is currently none of her sister’s business.

She honestly thought she’d feel different. Getting into bed in her tee shirt and underwear, she thinks she feels entirely the same as she did before Harry’d closed the door to his room and then led her by the hand to his bed. And god, she could’ve picked someone else. She could’ve. But she just...she’d asked for a distraction, and he was a good one. Hot in his car, and genuine when he was talking to her at first, when she arrived for the game, and then again by the pool. And she can almost still feel his hand on her hip when she was laid out on the grass, hear the worry in his voice when he said her name, leaning down close to her to make sure she was okay.

She can’t stop thinking about what he’d said about her, too. Peculiar and intense. As if he’d thought about it before. Like, there’s no way - _no way_ \- he thought of those two words for the first time tonight, on the fly, after a couple shots. The idea that she’s been on his mind in some form or fashion since maybe they were kids is just…

She’s not blind. She’s seen the way he’s looked at her. She’s known the way he talks to her sometimes is completely inappropriate, or at least it was because he had a girlfriend. She doesn’t even know what the deal is with him and Kelly, but it seems pretty over. God, she hopes it’s over. She’ll feel really awful if it isn’t over.

If he’d been acting the way he always does, she honestly wouldn’t have ever suggested they go inside. But he was sweet, and he leaned over and kissed her and then looked properly embarrassed, like he thought maybe he’d done something wrong even though it was exactly what she wanted.

She’s thinking about the way he’d been acting by the pool more than she’s thinking about having sex with him. She thinks it was more enjoyable honestly. Like, she wasn’t expecting her first time to be good. As much as she’s very firmly in camp ‘all sex should be good’, she didn’t have a point of reference, and frankly, it had all happened so fast there’s not any real way she could’ve controlled much else about it. And then after, his whole attitude about it sort of...pissed her off? No, that’s not fair, really. He’d just been so self-satisfied, too caught up in himself to notice that she was sort of irritated with him. Underwhelmed at the very least. He’d fully watched her get dressed, gone as far as licking his lip when she bent over to reach for her sweater when she was telling him they should get back downstairs.

Honestly, she likes how attracted he seems to be to her. She just wishes he’d done a better job of like, doing something about it.

And then...god, again, the way he’d looked at her downstairs, the way he’d driven her towards downtown, pulled his jacket up over her, said, “Here,” so she wouldn’t get soaked. She likes all that so much.

She thinks she likes _him_. And ultimately she’s more pleased to have had sex for the first time with someone she genuinely likes and not just some random person to say she’d done it, than she is about the actual sex.

Her phone lights up with a message, and she reaches for it, sees his name on her screen. When she opens it, it says, _’My sheets smell like you’_ , which makes this feeling coil in her belly. Something like a desire to continue what they did earlier. Something that makes her feel foolish for not _telling him_ afterward, for not interrupting his bliss, or whatever, and telling him she wanted more.

She can’t think of anything hot to say in response. She just says, _’oh yeah?’_ and he replies back _’Thinking about you’_ and she knows it’s not a sweet guy by the pool moment. No, it’s a guy with his lips on her neck calling her ‘so hot’ moment.

She doesn’t reply. She lets herself think about what he might be doing in his bed. No, that’s not...She lets herself think about what he basically just told her he’s doing in his bed. She thinks it’s privately sort of hot if she does the same thing in hers.

… … …

She showers again in the morning, because sleeping on wet hair made it dry crazy and she can’t make it cute no matter what she tries. So she just starts over, spends too long under the spray thinking about last night. About everything. And more of her thoughts should go to the mayhem and bullshit they’re dealing with, but no, too many of them are occupied by Harry. By her time spent with him and how he’d sounded and then even the way he’d felt moving above her, and then Cassandra’s knocking on the door and asking when she’s going to be done.

Allie rubs some product into her hair, moisturizes her skin and brushes her teeth, opens the door and shouts, “All yours!” down the hall, closes her bedroom door because she just...doesn’t have it in her to have another argument today. She figures the longer she puts off this conversation, the harder it’s going to be. But she just doesn’t think it’s honestly any of Cassandra’s concern who Allie spends time with.

God, that’s so not fucking true, is it? Allie’s concerned with the way Cassandra’s spending time with Gordie, isn’t she? How could she possibly expect that wouldn’t go the other way?

Honestly, it’s kind of her own fuckup that she didn’t make sure that the person she slept with for the first time was someone she could talk to her sister about. But that’s making it sound like she makes her choices based on what’s best or easiest where Cassandra’s concerned, and despite what people might think of her, she doesn’t do that.

No, she should make choices for herself. Right? She should get what _she_ wants. She’s lying to herself if she thinks for even a second that she doesn’t want to text Harry.

 _’sleep well?’_ is what she asks, and thinks it’s sort of flirty enough after what he said last night that maybe he’ll bite, send back something that makes her feel good.

It’s a few minutes before he replies. She’s trying to read a book, but checking her phone too often to get through more than a few sentences at a time.

_’Took a while to get to sleep. Distracted.’_

Allie smiles, pinches her bottom lip lightly between her thumb and index finger, and sinks down in her bed a little.

_’afraid of thunderstorms?‘_

_’Yeah that’s it'_

And then, just a moment later, he sends, _’Totally nothing to do with you at all.'_

God, he’s sort of good at this. Really he’s barely doing anything. This is like, super PG and stupid and she wants to refuse to be even remotely turned on by this like, Disney Channel level flirting.

_’what’d i do, exactly?'_

He’s typing something, then stops and starts again, and then what comes through is just, _’Allie’_ , like some kind of warning shot.

Whatever. If he can’t handle it, he’s not who she thought he was.

_’??’_

Her phone _rings_ with his name on the screen, and Allie feels her heart race with something like embarrassment. But she can’t not answer. She literally just texted him. If she doesn’t answer, he’ll know she’s ignoring him and he’ll think she’s bold enough to text but not bold enough to talk to him. She doesn’t want that to be true. Like, she was literally mostly naked with him last night. She isn’t going to act precious about talking to him on the phone.

“Hi.”

Shit. She hadn’t meant to sound so breathless.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m…” Now would be a good time to try to decide if he means this literally, or if he’s asking what she’s doing sending him flirty texts. “Reading.”

“Mm.” There’s something definitely amused in just that sound. “Is that right?”

Something about it makes her feel really stupid, honestly. Like, Harry Bingham has a reputation of being a player even though he and Kelly have been together for like two years, or something, and is Allie really fooling herself into believing he _wants_ something more than he got from her last night? Not something more as in a relationship, but something more as in the same thing again?

As soon as she has the thought, it’s the only thing she can think about.

 _Again_.

“No,” she answers honestly, and he laughs in her ear, this low sound that she won’t say isn’t just really hot. She presses her head against her pillows, plays with the bottom of her shirt. “I’m distracted, too.”

There’s a pause, and then this little breath, like he can’t believe this, either. That she’s texted him, and then answered the phone, and now isn’t backing down.

He starts saying, “Last night was…” and she literally rolls her eyes. God, guys are so stupid. He has the same satisfied voice on that he did last night, albeit a little less out of breath. (If she wanted to be really snotty, she’d think he had no business being that out of breath after that short amount of time.)

“Why don’t I come over?” she suggests, feeling bold, and frustrated, and honestly like he’s got a lot to prove and he could start today.

“What?” he sort of laughs. “Are you serious?”

She revisits her earlier thought. “Do you not want me to?”

“No. I mean, yeah. No, yeah, I want you to.”

She lets out a little breathy laugh, the kind she’d use on someone if they were being a little pathetic, which she thinks he might be. Honestly, she’d worried about herself being all talk, but she’s starting to feel that way about him. He can charm and flirt and make you feel special with his words, but when it comes time to put his money where his mouth is...so far, for her, the results just aren’t there. He’s kind of bumbling at the idea of her coming around again, which is just sort of hilarious with how he’d started texting her last night about her on his sheets.

Like, does he really have anything to back that up with?

She takes the Prius because Cassandra’s been saying walking places isn’t safe. Cassandra isn’t here, but Allie is also freaked out enough by what she saw last night to get behind the wheel and drive the literal 7 minutes or whatever to Harry’s massive house. God, it’s so different from her own in every possible way. When she parks in front of the garage, she has a holdover thought from their old life for a moment, wonders if she’s going to be blocking anyone in.

She rings the bell and hears the chimes echo through the whole house, and then it takes him a while to come to the door. His room’s sort of far away from it. It’s not like at her house where you’re never more than like, 10 seconds from the door if it rings.

He looks cute when he answers, smiles like he sort of can’t believe she’s shown up. Which she supposes makes sense, really. She’s being bold - she _is_ bold - but he doesn’t actually know her well enough to know that, does he? What he’d said last night by the pool was true. He didn’t know her before. He was starting to last night. What he knows, what he can assume, is that maybe she’s not actually as forward as she let on.

She slips her hands into her back pockets when he closes the door behind him. She thinks he’s spent most of today cleaning up, or something, because it actually doesn’t look like there was a massive party here last night. And all the windows are open like he wanted to get the smell of beer and too many people out, which is probably a good thing.

“So,” she says, and then he’s right there at her back, not touching her with his hands, but the heat of his chest sort of radiating. She _likes_ that. She turns around, and he doesn’t back up. It’s sort of wild how good he looks up this close. “Hi.”

He gives her that soft look. The one from the gas station. The one from by the pool after he kissed her. “Hi.”

She takes a deep breath, glances at his lips. He seems to get the hint, to lose any hesitation he might’ve had about why she came. He reaches up, puts his hand on her face kind of way too gently for what she actually wants from him, and draws her in for a kiss. She lets him because she likes kissing him, but then pulls back, lets her eyes stay on his, and slides her hand down his forearm so it’s holding his wrist as she turns towards the stairs.

She hears him say her name behind her as he follows, but she doesn’t look at him. That wasn’t like, him saying her name to get her to stop or slow down. It was him saying her name in anticipation, or something.

His room feels differently in the daytime. Less like some weird boy cave. Full of natural light coming through the windows. Everything feels lighter and she does, too, unencumbered by the thought that people downstairs might’ve seen them coming up, or the idea that Cassandra would be disappointed. Because Allie’s already done this once before, so what’s there to worry about doing it again?

She also notices the pool table, and how it’s literally almost an apartment in here.

She’s really mostly interested in the bed, to be honest. She sits down, and then he’s in front of her, smiling down at her. His bed’s so tall her knees bump his thighs when he gets close.

She reaches for the bottom of her shirt, and he laughs quietly, reaches for her hands to stop her and says, “Hey. Wait.” She’s confused, pinches her brows together and looks up at him. “Can we like, talk, or something? Damn.”

Allie tilts her head. And like. No. No, that’s not what this is. This is her giving him a chance to redeem himself and also - _also_ \- it’s her wanting an orgasm she doesn’t give herself.

She sets her hands on his thighs over his jeans, moves closer to the edge of the bed. He swallows, his adam’s apple moving. He looks legitimately nervous, which makes her sort of smile. Something about being able to make Harry Bingham skittish is such a fucking accomplishment, isn’t it?

“Well, what do you want to talk about?” she asks, and he makes this sound at the back of his throat that she thinks is maybe meant to be a cough, or something.

“I dunno,” he mumbles. Allie smiles up at him like...God, she really likes him like this. Way too much. “Should we talk about last night?”

Ugh. _Ugh_. He had to go and ruin it, didn’t he?

She takes her hands off him, puts them into her own hair, then brings them down to her sides, presses them into the mattress so her shoulders move up a bit. At some point, she’s going to have to decide if being sexually frustrated because of this guy is worth it, or if she should just leave him alone and forget about it.

She absolutely sounds a bit too sharp when she asks, “What do you have to say about last night, Harry?” and it makes him squint at her, and then tilt his head, put a hand on his hip like he feels he might be missing something. Which like, you think?

“I dunno.” He sits next to her and she tries her hardest not to give him a baleful look and just climb onto his lap. “Why did you wanna come over?”

She laughs, looks at him like he’s truly lost his mind. “Oh, my god. Am I being too subtle?” Okay, _there’s_ the grin she’s been waiting for. “Maybe you aren’t ready for this.”

Yeah. _Yeah_. He’s offended now. This dark look in his eye that sort of makes her weak.

“What?”

He sets one hand on his knee, his body turning towards hers, and the weight of his stare is enough to make her lose a little of her bravado. Not that she’s scared of him, or anything - Jesus, she sort of thinks there’s something soft about him, like he wouldn’t actually lift a finger to hurt someone - but he just…

He looks just angry enough to be hot, and his voice is a little deeper, rougher, when he asks, “Not ready for what?” and gives one good, heavy blink that makes her think she’s entirely incorrect.

“For a girl to call the shots, maybe?” she says, though she immediately thinks it’s stupid because it’s not at all what she was thinking. She just decided at the last minute to not be _really_ insulting and say like, sex in general.

He gets this ridiculously hot look on his face, sets his hand behind her so he can lean closer, his fingers brushing against her ass as he does, and then like, fully slipping beneath her.

Okay.

“Maybe you’re just so hot it makes me act stupid,” he suggests, and it’s the dumbest line she’s ever heard, but she also thinks it’s probably accurate. He gives her this little grin, and she wonders how he does that so easily, turns on this charm he has. “You make me nervous. Since you jumped out of a moving car and ended up on the grass.”

She laughs softly. The car wasn’t _moving_. It was…it was practically stopped fully.

She asks, “Is that what happened last night?” with her chin tipped up a bit, because honestly, she’s got nothing to lose, right? She’s already sort of making a fool of herself, and if this goes poorly, she’ll just like, completely ignore him forever.

He blinks, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Oh, god. It’s even worse than she thought. He really...He really just does not have a single hint of a clue that he hadn’t exactly been _pleasing_ last night. Well, no. That’s not true. There had been moments. There’d been flashes that maybe he could actually accomplish his task. But almost every time it had started to feel _good_ , the attention went elsewhere.

Look, if she genuinely thought he was incapable, she wouldn’t be here.

He’s looking at her in such a way that makes her lose a little of her nerve. She doesn’t want to be mean. He’s probably going to be embarrassed or whatever, and she doesn’t have to be rude about it.

“I mean,” she takes the edge of her lip under her teeth, which he watches. Which is a sort of good look on him, to be honest. She thinks he _likes_ that she’s so forward, he just doesn’t know what to do with it. Not really. “No offense? But it could’ve been better?”

Her eyes are soft when she glances at him, and then he lets his lips part, this little breath pushing past, and he won’t look her in the eye now.

She turns, brings her leg up onto the bed and rests her thigh against his, her knee sort of on top of him. His hand isn’t under her ass anymore, but he does graze her hip like he wants to keep touching her, which is good. Honestly, if he just asked her to leave and never talk to him or anyone else about this ever again, maybe that’d be a little expected, too.

He glances at her from under his lashes, which...Jesus, if she thinks about that look long enough she might have to try to convince him this conversation is stupid and to redeem himself he should just push her back on the mattress again like he did last night and just _try again_.

“Look, I’m not…” She puts her hand on his face, smoothes her thumb over his cheek. It’s still coloured pink, which is just so attractive she has to ignore it mostly. “I’m not saying I didn’t like it.” She feels his jaw twitch against her palm, almost a smile. She wants the smile. Like a reward for her honesty. “I liked it.” _There_ it is. And there’s also some comment he’s holding back. Maybe his confidence is shaken enough to think twice about it. “I came over because I want to give you another chance.”

He breathes a laugh, the air from it warm against her wrist, and then his other hand, the one that’s been stubbornly not touching her, moves to the thigh she has against him, settles onto her. She almost wants to curse her jeans. Almost can remember how his hand had felt there last night, palm warm against her as he’d pressed her thigh down into the bed. He seems to like her reaction to his touch and her thinking about _that_ , because his lips tick up at the side and his brow goes up.

“So generous,” is what he says, and like, honestly?

Honestly, it is generous. He still seems a little put out, just shy of annoyed, or something. But isn’t that _good_ , also? Is she supposed to feel badly for telling him? Why does he get to stay blissfully unaware about his performance? Is it because he’s a guy and sex should center him? Fuck that.

“If you want to,” she says, because he’s also just not _doing_ anything, really, other than considering her words and processing what she’s telling him. He nods, which is kind of a hilarious reaction. She lets her hand fall from his face to his chest, then fully grabs his collar in her fist. “Do something?”

He laughs again, eyes searching her face. “I’m not bad at sex,” he says quietly, reflective.

She doesn’t know what to say to that. She doesn’t necessarily want to picture him with another girl right now, but she knows there’ve been other girls - at least one other girl - and she sort of can’t imagine that he’s even wrong.

“No?”

His hand moves up her thigh, until he’s very nearly touching her where she wants him to, and he shakes his head, leans in so his lips are just inches from hers. “Last night, with you, I just…” Oh, god. If he says some shit about her being _special_ , or something, she’s going to be so irritated. That’s not what this is and it’s stupid if he tries to take it there. But then what he says, lowly, is, “I know how to make you come.”

He seems pleased, accomplished, when she lets out this little sound from deep in her throat. She still sort of has no reason to believe him, but the sentence is hot enough that it turns her on.

Instead of saying _shut up and do it, then_ , she just looks at his mouth and likes the way he leans over to kiss her.

Then, moments later, he’s got his hand up under her shirt on her waist and he’s saying, “Lie back,” and then absolutely smirking at the anticipatory look she gives him, but please do not judge her whatsoever for her eagerness.

 _This_ is what she’d wanted from him. Today, this morning, last night. God, please, _please_ let him be as hot as he is in her mind. She’ll forgive him for whatever last night was - take him at his word and chalk it up to nerves, or whatever - if he can keep this up and deliver on what he’s saying and how he’s acting. After she’s moved up against the pillows and adjusted them so she’s comfortable and he’s slipped up, just a little, and given her a look like he thinks she’s _cute_ , or something, he moves up alongside her, his hand on her stomach, and kisses her again. Then he’s unbuttoning her jeans, pulling away so he can watch himself take down the zipper. That little thing in itself makes her hotter for him, makes her play with the button of his shirt at his chest.

He slips his hand in, tucks his fingers between the denim and the cotton of her underwear, and then looks back up at her. “I’ve always thought you were so hot,” he confesses, and she feels foolish for being pleased by it. She’s not _surprised_ , really, but it feels good, knowing he’s paid her any kind of attention before, that his stupid flirting might not have just been empty words. “One time in rehearsal you were painting that set and reaching up, and I saw all this skin and I just…fucking blanked.”

Allie thinks she knows the day he’s talking about. He’d messed up a line spectacularly, and Cassandra had given him such shit for it because they were so close to opening night.

Allie nods, sort of wants him to continue talking, because his voice this soft, just for her, is sort of working for her really well. Not that it’s surprising; it had felt the same last night, too. It’s entirely the thing that had her wanting to come inside in the first place.

“And yesterday at the gas station,” he says, and it should not be this fucking hot when he’s talking about a _gas station_ , but then he puts his mouth against her neck, slips his fingers lower, right between her legs and presses gently enough to tease. “Could you tell I wanted this then, too?”

She’s literally wondering how she ever thought he was bad at this.

“No,” she breathes. He laughs a little, pulls back. His hand isn’t moving, and she considers shifting her hips or begging, which...She just refuses.

“Really?”

She shakes her head, though she might be lying. She’s too distracted to think about it, honestly. She doesn’t want to talk to him. She wants him to talk to her, that’s fine. But she doesn’t want to have a conversation, or whatever. Like, if she really thinks about it, yes, he was trying pretty hard to get her to agree to get into his car. She just doesn’t want to _think_.

“I’m here now,” she says, hating how breathless she sounds, but liking the look it puts onto his handsome face. She settles her hand onto his back, just below his neck, and does end up shifting her hips when he moves his fingers just the slightest bit. “Again.” Because yes, she feels the need to keep him humble. “Did you want me with my clothes on, or?”

He chuckles, “Not exactly,” but gets the hint, and then she’s super thankful to say he sort of takes over from there.

By that, she means he does undress her, gets her jeans down off her hips, and she watches, eyes him carefully when he sort of takes her heel in his hand and tugs her pant leg delicately to get it off, and then does the same with the other. Not that he wasn’t gentle last night, but this is different, and maybe it’s that she can _see_ him better, or something. She can see the way he’s looking at her like he’s a little amazed, or something like that, when he plants a kiss to her hip just above her pale pink boyshorts. He says, “These are sexy as fuck,” and curves his hand around her hip, leans into her a little and kisses her. Then he’s slipping his hand beneath her to unclasp her bra, and he can’t seem to do it one-handed, so she laughs and shoves at him, sits up and does it herself, and he’s just _watching_ as she takes it off. She throws it at him just for fun, and he laughs and drops it off the side of the bed before leaning over her again. She likes the weight of it, the press of him against her and her shoulders into the mattress, the playful way he’d been chuckling as he pushed against her.

But then he just sort of...stops. He kisses her softly - she seriously wonders what lip balm he uses, because it _works_ \- and then pulls back and just sort of looks at her, his hand trailing down her side.

“What?” she asks quietly, and he shakes his head, but doesn’t do anything. “Are you getting all nervous again?”

He breathes a laugh, says, “No. Shut up. Oh, my god.” Allie laughs, and then his hand moves up, right onto her chest, which she likes very much. “I’m...thinking.”

“Well, stop,” she says, and watches him register that she’s _way_ too turned on, keyed up to a degree she hopes means good things for her and whatever he can do with his hand. His shirt came off earlier in their making out, and his skin is all warm under her hands, and she thinks, maybe, she’s really got a thing for _warmth_. “Like, are you making a map? What…”

They both laugh, though hers sounds a little more desperate.

“What if I am?”

That’s stupid. He’s being stupid.

He’s still looking smug when he puts his hand between her legs, slips right into her underwear, but then the mask slips away when he touches her, says, “Fuck, Allie,” in this strained voice like he’s somehow surprised to find her so wet.

When she leaves, she’s...she’s not _impressed_ by his ability to like, literally do the bare minimum and take direction and make her feel good. No, it’s not impressive. It just...She pinpoints the feeling as relief. God, if she’d had to go the rest of her life thinking he was as mediocre as he’d shown up last night, she might’ve legitimately been sad about it. But he does make her come, and then he’s asking if they can...He literally says, “Can we?” when she’s breathing all heavy and feels hot all over. And the answer is yes, because she wants to. And she helps him help her along then, too, when he’s inside her, but it feels less clumsy, less directive. Like he’s got his confidence back, or something. Allie won’t let herself think about that meaning anything good for future hookups, because there’s just...There can’t be any future hookups, right?

When she gets home, no one is there. She has yet another shower and presses her forehead against the tiles and smiles to herself about both the pleasant ache in her body and the sort of languid, lazy feeling she has. She gets dressed in a cropped tee and another pair of those same style of underwear, takes a nap and then wakes up to Cassandra on her bed asking her where she snuck off to this morning.

Allie says, “Nowhere,” and presses her face against the pillow because she knows Cassandra will think she’s just cranky from being woken up and absolutely not thinking about the way Harry’d touched her and made her feel.

… … …

When Harry texts her, _’You wanna hang out?’_ she really shouldn’t say yes, but by now she knows that when it comes to him, she’s really good at ignoring what she shouldn’t do and doing instead what she wants to do.

She doesn’t feel badly about the decision when he’s on top of her and they’re kissing, and his hand is on her hip and he asks her if anyone’s ever gone down on her. When she says no, he asks, “Can I?” and Allie knows the laugh she lets out is this heavy thing filled with desire. Harry chuckles at her, smiles down at her when he leans up on his hands. She realizes too late he’s waiting for an actual answer, even though she’s pretty sure she’s made it clear. When she says, “Yes,” he literally wets his lips and looks so ridiculously hot doing it that Allie shifts her hips against his bed.

She does it for him, too, likes the way his hand sinks into her hair, the sounds he lets out, the choked way he says her name when he’s close.

When she’s getting ready to leave and he’s getting dressed again, pushing her hip with his so she’ll move out of the way and he can grab his shirt, he asks if she’s going to prom.

“I don’t know. I guess.”

“You sound super excited about it.”

She laughs a little, pulls her shirt over her head and tugs her hair out the back. Harry reaches up, pushes it behind her ear. She just blinks up at him. He’s being soft. God, it’s insane how he goes back and forth between this and other things. It’s insane that she likes all of it as much as she does.

“It just doesn’t feel like it’s actually prom,” she says, and he lets out this little scoff, like he’s also thinking about how fucked everything is, nods.

“Yeah.” He pulls his shirt on, too, though his pants are still undone. It’s weirdly attractive. Sexy. Like there’s something intimate about them getting dressed together. She’s being stupid. “Yeah, it’ll probably be pretty awful.”

He doesn’t sound like he actually believes that.

He sounds like maybe he was asking because...because he was _asking_.

Allie presses her fist into his chest and pushes, makes him laugh, and tells him she’ll see him later before she walks out.

She should definitely stop this. Definitely.

Later that night, he texts her that this afternoon was so hot he can’t stop thinking about her mouth.

So. She should stop it.

Instead, she can’t help but think about his mouth, too, to tell him so. Allie presses her head back against her pillows and tries to muster up feelings of shame or embarrassment over how much she likes this shit with Harry, but she can’t find any. All the things telling her she can’t want this are external factors that don’t really have any bearing on her actions. Like, if Cassandra doesn’t like him that’s her thing. And it’s not like they’re _dating_. No, this isn’t like that at all.

She tells him goodnight and he sends back 😌, which doesn’t really mean anything, but it makes her smile anyway.

… … ...

She smiles too widely when she sees him and he says, “Hey!” like he’s happy to see her, or something. He’s just looking at her like it’s genuinely _nice_ to bump into one another, and she smiles and feels some of her tension leave her shoulders, because god, maybe the thing he can really give her is the feeling of being a teenager again. She knows the only time she feels like everything isn’t absolute shit is when she’s with him or when they’re sending stupid texts back and forth.

When he eyes her up and down and says, “Lookin’ good,” she knows it’s meant to be a joke, but he somehow manages to slide just enough of a flirty look onto his face to make her want to push it a little.

“I dressed up just for you.”

God, he’s hot. And he finds a reason to touch her arm. No, that’s...He doesn’t find a reason. There’s no reason. But he does it anyway. Allie doesn’t even care if she looks like a wreck, because if that’s the case, he’s not acting like he notices.

When she says, “I’ve never wanted you more,” the look on his face is really, really telling. Actually, it’s familiar. It reminds her of that day in his bedroom, when she’d shown up knowing exactly what she wanted and he’d taken a little bit to get with the program.

She’s not foolish enough to think they were going to _be_ together, or anything, but she does like being around him. Yesterday was _fun_. And yes, she likes that he actually does seem to know how to make her feel good, give her what she wants, but there’s something different. There’s this, too. The way they’re sort of goofy and light with each other. She admittedly doesn’t really know what he’s got going on, and she knows she’s been exhausted and going crazy thinking about her old life and how fucked up everything is, how much she misses her parents. Talking to Harry feels easier than everything else.

She says the thing about her mom because she feels like she needs to say something to someone about it or she’s going to crumble. And talking to Cassandra about it hasn’t seemed to go over well. Cassandra is just...Different. Cassandra is different. Allie wants to feel everything. Cassandra wants to compartmentalize.

The way Harry replies, “That’s real,” is just...It reminds her of that night by the pool. The way he was with her. The way she can talk to him. The way he listens.

_Peculiar and intense._

She presses her lips together, wanting to take him somewhere so they can keep talking.

As he’s walking away, she genuinely feels like she might miss him, or something, but that thought is so fucking absurd she’s just not going to pay it any mind.

She strips her jeans off once she gets home, gets under a blanket and closes her eyes. She dreams about camping with her parents, which is a thing she always loved and Cassandra always hated. They’d switch off summers; one year somewhere Cassandra wanted, one year Allie chose. This summer was meant to be Allie’s turn picking. She and her dad had been looking up these places in Vermont and upstate New York as possibilities.

When she wakes up, she feels so fucking sad she doesn’t want to get out of bed. She pulls the blanket up over her shoulder even though she’s not even really cold, and searches around her bed for her phone so she can check the time.

She’s sure the screen does display the time, but all she sees is a message from Harry, and she swipes to open it, hating how much she likes that he’s actually reaching out.

The message just reads, _’I’m fucking exhausted. I hope you had a good nap.’_

Allie smiles to herself. She doesn’t know if this is laced with bitterness or jealousy, or if he’s just using it as a reason to message her.

_’literally just waking up’_

She sees that it’s nearly dinner time, which means he’s just ended his shift in the caf. She should be hungry, but she isn’t. She’s just tired and doesn’t want to leave her bed. She also doesn’t want to be alone, though that feels like a direct result of talking to Harry. She sort of really likes the idea of him being here with her.

She needs to start getting ready.

She snaps a photo, her blanket tucked up under her chin and her hair curling on the side of her head that isn’t pressed against the pillow. She sends it to him, thinking she looks sort of cute.

He replies instantly, which is way too flattering. Or she’s way too flattered by, anyway.

_’See, I didn’t need help picturing you in bed, but thank you for this.’_

She messages back, asking him to send one of himself. He replies with the eye roll emoji, and then...God, he sends her a picture of himself on his bed, shirtless, his hair all messy. His hand’s on his chest and it’s not like, a full body shot, but seeing the two photos, her all covered up and honestly looking cute, and him at least partly naked and the lighting in his room all dim...There’s just such a difference between the two photos. Allie knows she shouldn’t be doing this, probably, but she doesn’t want to stop.

Anything she’d write back would just take them down a road that’d have her doing something insane like asking if he wanted to get together before the dance. She has to get ready. She’s got to focus on that.

When she sees him by himself, he’s right by the bar, right where she wants to be. It’s a truly stupid idea to talk to him, be near him, in public like this, when she’s sort of pissed and wants to get drunk and he looks so good in his stupid tux.

“You came.”

The way he says, “So did you,” and looks at her is absolutely a nod to how they spent yesterday afternoon, but she ignores it because there’s no way she’s playing into his hands like that right here in front of everyone.

She wants to say yes when he asks her to dance. But she just thanks him for the drink and walks off, not that anyone who matters to her is actually watching or paying attention to them. She just can’t afford it. She can’t.

No, it’s not until later, when she’s leaving the hall and sees him by the door outside, too, looking at his phone, that she decides to just say fuck it. She leans into his shoulder with hers because there’s no one else around and she also doesn’t _care_. She just wants to not be here right now. His reaction time is a little slower than usual, but then so is hers. She’s a little tipsy and he seems to be, too. But he gives her this little look like he knows exactly what she wants but he’s going to make her ask for it. Which is sort of rich of him, because she’s definitely always the one being direct and he’s always the one following whatever she wants. But that makes it sound like she doesn’t like that, too. Which is not accurate.

“Your place?” she asks slyly after making sure no one’s around.

“Yeah?” He’s trying to confirm it, maybe. After she shot down his dance, maybe this feels weird to him. Surprising, or something. She just looks at him, raises a brow as if to ask if he’s into it or not. “I mean…” He stops, looks her up and down, and all Allie can do is _wait_. “Anywhere, honestly.”

“Stop,” she laughs, shaking her head, though she actually thinks he means it. He blinks all slowly and glances down at her again, sort of like he did at the bar earlier, like he wants it to be very, very clear to her that he’s checking her out. “Let’s go.”

He laughs. “Your seduction technique here is really - “ He makes the okay symbol with his hand, grins. “ - top notch.”

Allie turns to him, looks into his eyes and tilts her head just a little. “Do you want me to start trying harder?” she asks, and he looks a little stupid as he tries to process that. She likes making him speechless. “Is that what you’re asking for?”

“I…” He stops, laughs, and then takes a deep breath. He just says, “Let’s go,” just like she did, and Allie thinks her seduction technique is _just fine_ , thank you very much.

Harry slips his jacket off and puts it over her shoulders as they walk. He asks if she had fun, and she says she didn’t, not really. He says maybe they can change that, and it’s such a stupid line that it shouldn’t make her feel nice. It’s just that it comes out pretty genuinely, like he really doesn’t want her to have had a bad night. Like it’s not over yet and he thinks he can really help salvage it. This is the whole problem; she thinks he’s sort of _sweet_. She’s not saying she wouldn’t keep hooking up with him if he wasn’t. She’s just saying it feels like hooking up isn’t a totally accurate way of describing what they’re doing. Especially not when they’re walking up his street towards his house and his hand brushes hers, then he takes it in his and they’re just walking, holding hands like they’re a fucking couple, or something.

But there’s no one else around, and it’s prom, and she’s got his jacket on, and she lets herself pretend for just as long as it takes them to get to his house. She’s sort of been rubbing her finger against his ring. She thinks he likes that. They talk about the music and how bad it was and who the worst dancers were. She thinks he’s joking when he says she was, but she can’t be sure. She comments on him not dancing at all. “Told you I wasn’t in the mood, either,” he tells her, and Allie just nods as he unlocks his front door.

His house is...You can tell there are more people living in it now, and that most of those people are idiot teenagers and also kind of slobs. Harry pulls her by the hand to his bedroom. She wonders why they didn’t come in through the door at the side that leads straight to his yard, but it doesn’t matter. That’s how she’ll go later. How she came and went yesterday so no one would see. He must’ve just known the house was empty.

Harry reaches up with his thumb, rubs it gently against the bridge of her nose.

“What?” she asks, though what she really wants to ask is what the fuck he’s doing.

“You’re thinking too hard. You get this little wrinkle.”

Allie breathes a laugh, shrugs off his jacket now that they’re inside. He takes it from her, but then just tosses it onto his pool table carelessly.

“And this is _your_ way of seducing girls? Talking about their wrinkles?”

He grins a little, sets both hands on her hips over her dress and shakes his head. His tie is crooked. She wants to undo it, but doesn’t know anything about bow ties. She just plays with it with her right hand while her left goes to his shoulder.

“Talking about things I notice about them usually works,” he says, and he’s doing a shitty job of sounding like he’s not serious.

Allie can’t fucking help herself. “What else do you notice?”

He grins fully, draws her in a little closer, then leans back against the pool table, pulls her sort of between his legs. She doesn’t mind.

“You did your hair differently tonight.” He reaches up to play with a lock of it, and he’s being more delicate than she was expecting. That should stop surprising her at some point, too.

“Well, yeah. It’s prom.” He lets out a soft laugh. “Yours, too.” He shrugs his shoulder like he doesn’t want to talk about _him_. “What else?”

He smiles, looks at her from under his lashes, moves his hands up to her waist. “You were the prettiest one there.”

Allie rolls her eyes, goes to pull away but he stops her, catches her hand and tugs. She ends up right against him, which she doesn’t hate. Like, that’s literally the thing she’s here for.

“Don’t lie, Harry,” she says, 100% seriously.

He shakes his head, meets her eyes, then rubs his thumb against her waist through her dress. “I’m not lying.”

Allie kisses him to get him to shut up. The more time they spend together, the more she thinks he actually might have _feelings_ for her, and she can’t allow it.

(Later, she’ll think about how this is the point of the evening she should have _left_. Because kissing him - letting him kiss her - won’t help with the feelings, either. And the feelings are what complicate everything to a degree that causes an actual breakdown. But that’s all later.)

Harry, right now, puts his hands on her face, stands upright and takes a breath, says, “I’m so…”

But she stops him from saying anything then, too, because he _can’t_. She’s afraid if he finishes that sentence, she won’t be able to ignore anything. Like the way his thumb strokes her cheek, or the way his other hand settles onto the middle of her back over her dress. Or the way he smiles when she tells him where her zipper is, shakes his head and says, “Not yet,” and then just keeps kissing her. These stupid, soft, gentle kisses that are decidedly not what she came for. Like, yeah, they’re hot because he’s teasing her and he knows it, but she wants more. She always wants more of him. She should think harder about that, too. But not right now.

Because she wants to fast track this - she can see the time on this stupid clock he has on the wall - and also get what she wants, she says, “I keep thinking about yesterday.”

Harry breathes a laugh against her cheek, kisses his way down her neck and _finally_ catches her zipper between his fingers, tugs it downward.

“Yeah? What about it?”

“You just want me to tell you how good it was,” she says, and it’s meant to be a joke, but it doesn’t come out that way, and he’s laughing again, humming right there against her pulse. “You have a thing for talking, or something?”

“You brought it up. I’m just getting more information.” This is so _stupid_. He pulls back, his hands holding her dress open, tugging it a little so it comes down off her shoulders. She’s wearing a strapless bra, and he absolutely looks down as she pulls her arms free, then he pushes the dress off her hips. He takes another one of those deep breaths. “Also I think your voice is hot.”

Allie asks, “Just my voice?” and then pulls away, goes to the bed, because she really, really just...She wants to get what she came for and then leave.

(She wants to _be_ with him.)

As she moves back and lies down, she tries very hard not to appreciate too much the way he carefully picks her dress up off the floor and sets it over the back of his desk chair. Either he really does like the way she looked in it and doesn’t want to mess that image up, or he actually like, gives a shit about things - items - and wants to be sure it doesn’t get ruined, or whatever.

“Tell me more about yesterday,” he says as he joins her, tugging one end of his bowtie to loosen it, and then looking way, way too good when he starts unbuttoning his shirt. He’s just standing there next to the bed and she doesn’t like that.

She gets up onto her knees, watches him smile as she moves closer, presses her body all up against his.

“No,” she says, and he seems frustrated until she starts undoing his pants. “Can we...I wanna be on top.”

He sucks in a breath, looks at her like he’s not sure she knows what she’s asking for, when she very, very much does.

He just says, “Whatever you want,” like he’ll literally go along with anything she suggests. Which really makes a lot of sense, because all her ideas so far have been good, haven’t they?

This was a good one, too. She thinks he’d definitely agree. He’s lying back on the bed, and she’s just thrown a blanket over him after getting up, reaching for her clothes again. He watches her get dressed, says something in this tired voice she likes a lot about walking her home. It’s as bad an idea as them dancing together was. She wasn't kidding or lying or anything else when she said it’s better if they don’t do that.

“You shouldn’t go alone,” he says, leans up on his elbow, and like, maybe he’s worried, or something, but Allie rolls her eyes and clasps her bra, then steps into her dress.

“I’ll be fine. It’s a short walk.”

He seems to grapple with it, watches her struggle with her zipper and then gestures for her to come closer, zips it for her, her hair all pushed to the side.

“Text me when you get home,” he says, and Allie rolls her eyes, but nods, and then takes his chin in her hand, kisses him quickly. “Bye, I guess.”

She smiles at him, looks away. “What, did you think I was going to spend the night?”

He lets out an indignant laugh, flops back onto his pillows. “Not the craziest fucking idea in the world, Allie.”

She pushes a hand into his hair just to mess it up. “Goodnight, Harry.”

“Only good ‘cause I just got to have you like that.”

Her hand is on the doorknob when she turns and narrows her eyes at him. “You don’t _have_ me.”

It feels important. He grins like he gets it, holds up his hands like he’s conceding she’s right, and says, “Goodnight, Allie,” before she feels okay about walking out.

She texts him that she’s home. Because she said she would and she keeps her promises. She also tells him no one’s back yet, and he makes a comment about what she could do in a house all to herself. The next person home is Gordie, though, which...She rolls her eyes at just the sound of his voice. She’s honestly kind of tired of seeing him around all the time.

… … …

She wants to be sick every time she thinks about her night with him. And that’s even before she learns what he said and did and how he’d somehow manifested the worst thing that’s ever happened to her.

No, at first it’s just the awful thought that if she hadn’t left with him, she would’ve been there with her sister. Then it’s the thought that she was out walking alone at night and Dewey could’ve seen her first. Should’ve seen her first.

And then it’s knowing that while she was there fucking Harry, this guy was preparing to murder her sister and...God, that’s the thing that really makes her want to die. That she thought Harry actually liked her. Actually gave a single thought to her past just wanting to get her into his bed. She should’ve stuck to her guns that first day at the gas station.

_You can’t be an asshole to my sister and then nice to me._

She’s so fucking weak. Why did she think he ever could’ve been anything to her if he was like _that_ with Cassandra? She fucking hates herself for thinking it didn’t matter. For forgetting that she’d felt it with so much certainty before that first time. She and Cassandra are linked. You can’t have one without the other. You can’t get to her if you’re awful to Cassandra. She cares too much. Is too protective.

But that's not true, is it? Because she played right into his fucking hands. He got what he wanted, and she got _this_. Regret and fury and the disappointment of knowing he could be so sweet to her and so vile about her sister. That it was all a fucking game to him, because he’s a selfish asshole and she should’ve known better.

She literally wants to scream at him when he says, “Just us?” because god, he _had that_. He had just them. He fucked it up with his selfishness and his absolute lack of awareness of the consequences of his actions.

And she can’t even scream, because she’s just so goddamn tired. She’s so tired. All she can do is sit there as he starts talking, and when she cuts him off, it’s because she almost, for a fucking half a second, thought it maybe meant something that he was apologizing anyway, in front of everyone. Because he owed her that. Taking the hit and doing it because it was the right thing to do.

Too fucking late for that.

So it’s, “Get out,” and then the quiet way he says, “Yeah,” like he’s not surprised, like he knows he deserves it.

Good.

… … …

When she can’t sleep, she wants to do what she always used to do. Which was to go out into her yard in the dark and count stars until she got tired enough to go back inside. But that was when her parents were right inside, her dad usually awake and sitting in the den watching her. Sometimes joining her out on the grass and talking with her.

Now she’s sometimes scared to leave her house by herself, and she hates this. Hates everything about this. She wants to go back to what it was like before. Not even before they got here. She’d settle on before prom. When she was just a stupid teenager sneaking around.

She shouldn't want Harry. But nothing else makes sense right now, and she’s so _angry_ she thinks she should just...she should get to feel good. She should get to pretend things are fine. That she can have the things she does want and not have any of the things she doesn’t. If she thinks of those first weeks here, god, it was fun, with him. And he fucking ruined it. Took it away from her. Killed whatever they were when he had a hand in killing her sister.

No one notices her leaving the house. Some fucking guard they are. But she’s not surprised by that, either, and why should she be? She’s the one who killed someone. Dewey’s dead, and Allie killed him, and maybe anything that happens to her is justified. She doesn’t think she’s ever been so angry with so many people at one point in all her life. She doesn’t know what to _do_ with all this.

She texts Harry when she’s walking over, tells him to open the door for her. He’s awake in bed when she gets there. She seriously contemplated not showing. Leaving him to wonder if she was dead, too. Maybe he deserves that.

He doesn’t look like he was sleeping. Allie pulls her hoodie off and gets into his bed, right under the covers. He’s surprised, she can tell. She doesn’t care. She doesn’t want to think about how fucked up this is.

“I can’t sleep,” she says, and he nods. His eyes are all red, deep set bags underneath. She wonders what he’s been doing recently. She hasn’t seen him around. She also hasn’t looked for him, so maybe he’s been there and she just didn’t bother to pay attention. “I keep having these dreams about her. About my sister.” His jaw twitches. Allie’s good and mad now that she’s here, now that she’s seeing him. Now that she can feel his body heat. Now that she hates herself a little more for how much she likes how it feels. “Where I just have to watch her get shot over and over.”

“Allie.”

“Don’t.”

His eyes close. He takes a deep breath. Allie just...She wants to feel something other than _this_. She leans over and presses her mouth to his, and maybe it’s a little fucked up, because he isn’t paying attention and can’t stop her. But he kisses her back immediately, and his hand moves up onto her arm, his fingers pressing into her skin. It’s enough to make her think it’s just _almost_ too hard, and she wonders if he wants the human contact as much as she does.

When she gets on top of him, his hands move up to her face, but she pushes them away, pulls back from him and narrows her eyes.

“Don’t do that,” she tells him. He seems confused. Which makes sense, probably. “That gentle shit. I don’t…” Harry wets his lips, and she presses her hips down hard against his. He groans, hands digging into her thighs. “Yeah,” she breathes. “Like that.”

He says her name again, but she just really doesn’t want to _talk_ to him. She doesn’t want to hear what he has to say. She can’t imagine it’s anything different than what he tried to stutter out in her living room. She doesn’t care. It doesn’t matter. It won’t _change_ anything.

He pushes up after a bit, flips them so she’s on her back, kisses her hard, his teeth grazing her bottom lip, which...she just really likes that a lot. Then he sucks a mark onto her breast and she likes that, too. Likes that it hurts just a little. And then he presses into her a little harder than usual, his breath against her cheek, her fingers digging into his shoulder. He tries to kiss her, but she moves away. He doesn’t try again.

She doesn’t get dressed immediately. No, she lies on her side with her back to him, hating that _he’s_ the one who can make her feel so fucking good. She listens to his breathing as he lies there, somewhere close enough to touch even though they aren’t.

“When my dad died they had to use dental records to ID him.” Allie freezes, though she wasn’t even moving. She just feels her body fill with tension. She feels like she might cry, and that’s not about him, either. It’s just… “Every time I closed my eyes all I could see is what his face must’ve looked like.”

She remembers hearing about the accident. About his dad crashing his car into an 18 wheeler on the highway back from a work trip. About a woman in the car with him who was definitely not Harry’s mom. She never knew what was true and what wasn’t. This is the first real fact she’s heard, other than that his dad was killed.

She wants to tell him to stop, but there’s also a sick, grieving part of her that wants to know what he’s trying to say. That wants her to think maybe she’s not completely fucking alone in this.

“Yeah?” she asks, her voice small.

“Yeah. That’s why I missed three weeks. I couldn’t sleep.” Allie hates him a little for making it seem like they’re alike. They’re nothing alike.

But god...God, if they are alike, if she’s just hurt and angry and wrong about that, she wants to know what he knows.

“When did it stop?” She looks at him over her shoulder, only realizes she’s crying when she moves and the tear falls down her face. He’s lying there on his side, facing her. She turns onto her back and he pushes his hands up under the pillow. Maybe to keep from touching her. That’s what she thinks, anyway.

“It didn’t,” he tells her quietly, his face sort of obscured because of the darkness and how close they are. She can feel his breath against her. “Just got used to it, I guess.”

She wipes her face with the side of her hand. “I don’t want to get used to it.”

He says, “I know,” and she can tell he really does, but that just…

She doesn’t want him to know her.

She gets up, pulls her clothes on and ties her shoes, and Harry isn’t saying anything, which isn’t exactly surprising or whatever, but it does make her think of something.

“No ‘text me when you get home’ this time?” she asks, bitter, and he actually lets hit this angry little laugh that makes her heart race.

“Would you actually do it?”

“No.”

He purses his lips, leans up on his elbow. “Right. So.”

Allie rolls her eyes, leaves through the side door, and the entire way home, she’s thinking he _does_ know her a little. She hates that. Like, she really can’t fucking stand it.

She texts him when she gets home. Just to surprise him. Just to remind him she can do whatever she wants. That he’s not some kind of expert on what she will or won’t do. He reacts with a thumbs up and that’s so fucking passive aggressive she throws her phone onto her bed and gets under the covers, fully dressed, and stares at the ceiling until the sun starts coming in through her windows.

Because the thing she didn’t say - the thing she can’t fucking handle - is that when she closes her eyes, she sees Dewey, too. The bullet entering his head. The blood. The way he’d begged. The way she _wanted_ him to beg. The way she didn’t feel even a little better after pulling the trigger. The way she regretted it immediately. The way she still does.

… … …

She doesn’t mean for it to happen again. But everything is so fucking hard, and she can’t go anywhere or do anything without someone asking her what she thinks of something, or what they should do, or what she’d do if she were them. At this point they’re facing the very real possibility that this is just _it_ for them, and Allie can’t even like, sit by the spot where her sister’s buried for five fucking minutes on her own. She just can’t do all this. She can’t keep going like this. She doesn’t fucking want to.

She goes to visit Cassandra in the dark, at night time, when all the rest of the town is silent and no one else is around to look at her with the kind of pity she’s really come to truly hate.

It’s hot, too. The middle of the summer and Allie thinks she was supposed to have a tan by now. She’s started wearing her bikini in the backyard a half hour a day, telling anyone who asks questions about it to fuck off. She didn’t bother changing today, the black fabric under her shorts and white tee shirt. She kicks her flip flops off, lies down on the grass behind the church and talks to Cassandra as if it’ll help anything whatsoever.

When she hears footsteps, she can’t help feeling scared and then hating herself for that. Like, the worst has already happened. And when she agreed to all this shit, she _told_ them what they were signing her up for; if it happens, there’s a part of her that will feel like, a really fucking sick satisfaction at being right.

But then she looks up and sees Harry walking through town, shorts and a tee shirt on and his hair all wet and slicked back. What the fuck? Where’s he been? Where’s he going?

“Hey!” she calls out, standing quickly and watching him stop as she puts her flip flops back on. “What are you doing?’

It sounds accusatory, because it is. It’s pretty suspicious of him to be wandering around in the middle of the night. Like, what the fuck? She’s never seen another person out when she’s done this. It’s _weird_.

“What are _you_ doing?” he asks, though he looks past her, the little white cross with Cassandra’s name on it reflecting the moonlight. He _grins_ , which is...It makes her mad immediately. “Torturing yourself?”

“Mm. I’m getting really good at it.” Because fuck him. “What are you doing, Harry? Seriously.”

He seems to realize what she’s asking, and then seems to be offended by it. Which is pretty rich, considering her reason for being out and his part in that.

“I went swimming at the pond,” he says, defensive, crosses his arms. “I couldn’t sleep.”

“That’s dangerous,” is the first thing that comes to mind, and Harry tilts his head.

“You give a fuck?”

She closes her mouth, loses all her mean or witty comments, because...God, him implying that she doesn’t just makes her realize that she does. Despite everything, she doesn’t want something bad to happen to him. She knows that an eye for an eye leaves the whole world blind, or whatever the fuck that saying is. She doesn’t feel better after Dewey. She wouldn’t feel better if Harry...She wouldn’t feel better.

She hates herself for a lot of things, and liking Harry, caring at all whether he lives or dies, is right up there on the list. But she does care. A lot. And that’s something she thinks she can keep to herself. No one else needs to know. Especially not him.

He lets out a scoff, shakes his head, “Goodnight, Allie,” he says, and starts walking, and Allie bites her bottom lip hard and knows she shouldn’t, but she calls his name and then runs after him when he doesn’t stop. “What?”

There’s no one else around, and he looks really good - _really_ good - and she grabs him by the shirt and kisses him, because as pathetic as it makes her, she’s wanted to do this in public, at least a little, since the night of fugitive. Something about him kissing her by the pool with people around like he just didn’t care at all who saw made her feel better than it should have. Like he just wanted her and didn’t care about anything else. It was new for her.

Kissing him in the middle of town, his hands against her hips pulling her to him a little roughly like he remembers last time and what she wants...

“Let’s go swimming,” she says, and Harry actually lets out a laugh. She smiles at him, tugs on his shirt to get him to stop that. “I have my suit on. Take me.”

He sucks in a breath - maybe at her word choice - says, “Let’s go to my house,” and it annoys her that he thinks he gets to say that. That he can… “I’ll go down on you. You look tired.”

She doesn’t know why those two things are connected, or why he said it like that, anyway. It’s kind of fucking rude, really. And how does him going down on her solve the problem of her exhaustion?

But she goes, so that probably says something about her that she wouldn’t like, if she thought too hard about it. Which she isn’t going to do.

“How’ve you been?” he asks as they walk, and Allie shoots him a look.

“You don’t get to ask how I’ve been.”

Harry’s quiet a second. “I mean, you’re visiting her grave in the middle of the night alone, so I’m guessing not good.” Allie puts her hands in her back pockets, doesn’t say anything. She wishes he would’ve just dropped it. “You can tell me, if you want to. I’ll listen.”

Allie shakes her head, looks to the ground. “No.” He sighs. It pisses her off. “I’m still...all fucked up.”

It’s vague, and maybe she’s talking about him and them - this - but she’s also talking about her house, and her role in this world, and making decisions. She’s talking about the guard, and Will, and Gordie, and...It’s just a lot. It’s too much. She doesn’t want any of it. Actually, she thinks the only thing she _does_ actually want is his mouth against her like he offered.

He says, “Same,” and she doesn’t know if he’s talking about her, or Cassandra, or his dad, or all this, but she believes him. And she actually...God, she doesn’t want him to suffer. She should want that. She thinks she should, but she doesn’t.

Neither of them says anything else the entire rest of the walk to his place, and he just pulls his keys out of his pocket, opens the door to his room, the side door that lets him come and go as he pleases like this.

Allie takes off her shirt and pushes her shorts down off her hips. Harry’s standing there watching, head tilted appreciatively.

“Maybe I should’ve taken you for that swim,” he tells her, and then she puts a hand on her hip, completely unselfconscious in front of him. No other guy has seen her naked as much as he has. She likes the attention. “This is sexy.”

“I’m trying to get a tan.”

“Mhm,” he says, reaching for her hips, pulling her back towards him, towards his bed. “Really helpful to be outside in the middle of the night.”

He unties her bottoms at one side, then the other. He could’ve just pushed them down, but she thinks he just wanted to do that. As the fabric falls away, he takes a breath, slips a hand into her hair, and turns them so she can lie down. She parts her legs just a little and Harry, honest to god, rubs his lips together. She wants him to kiss her again. She realizes he’s keeping distance because his shorts are wet, watches him pull his shirt off and then push them down. Then his hands are behind her, untying her top, lips pressing against hers, and she bends her knees when he presses against her like this, their skin warm from the night air, and his hair still wet.

“Your hair looks good like this,” she tells him, her hand pushing through it as he kisses his way down her chest.

“Yeah?” he asks, laughing, looking up at her from his place. She nods. “Okay.”

Yeah. Okay.

It’s the first nice thing she’s said to him, really, since...Since before. Maybe she should let him have it. She’s kind of tired of being shitty. It’s hard work. She’d rather just enjoy this. Because his tongue feels good against her skin, his open mouthed kisses leaving little wet spots behind, and then...God, then his arms go under her thighs and she closes her eyes as he does what he promised to do.

Allie falls asleep immediately, without returning the favour or even offering. She registers that he pulls a blanket over her, that he presses against her back, his arm around her middle and his lips against the back of her neck gently before moving away again. She remembers thinking she should get up. But she doesn’t. No, she doesn't get up, not even when the sun’s coming in through the windows and Harry’s hand is moving over her hip and down her thigh, then back up.

Fuck.

She turns to get a good look at him. His hair’s dried all weird and matted in one side, and he’s just blinking at her like he’s surprised she stayed, too.

She hasn’t slept this well in weeks. No, that’s not even accurate. She hasn’t slept this well since Cassandra died.

Allie knows she should go. She doesn’t know the time, but people at her house will be freaking out soon if they aren’t already. She should literally run home and tell them she was just out for a bit this morning. Make up some excuse about...Well, she could just say she was visiting Cassandra.

But she doesn’t do that. She turns, presses Harry back against his bed, likes the low groan he lets out when she leans in to kiss his neck and moves her hand over his pelvis.

He says her name, and she tells him to shut up. He just nods, lets her do what she wants - what he wants - then presses his hand between her legs, too.

Allie leaves him in bed, sprints home, and nearly cries in the shower at how relieved she is to not feel so fucking _tired_ for once.

… … …

It’s pure stubbornness that has her staying away. She is absolutely not going to allow him to be the person that gets her through this, or the one who makes any of it bearable. No, that’s not him. That’s her. She dosen’t need Harry Bingham, or Will, or any fucking body else but herself. Does it help to have support? Yes. But Will kind of gives bad advice, and she’s finding it hard to trust other people. Maybe because she wants to trust herself. When other people put voices and ideas in her ear, she gets all confused. When she thinks things through on her own, it’s better. She doesn’t want them necessarily to all always come to solutions as a group. It doesn’t have to be that way. Sometimes she thinks she can do all this without all these fucking men trying to pull her in one direction or another.

She’s in the caf with Kelly and Becca, the only two who seem capable of treating her like she isn’t about to break any time Harry is around. Becca, because she knows Allie well enough. Kelly, because she cares enough about Harry to not want to make it weird. He’s dishing up pieces of homemade bread to go with their soup, looks thoroughly bored by the task. Allie doesn't really ignore him, she just doesn’t do more than say, “Thanks,” after he’s set the bread on her tray.

And that’s all it is. For a long time. When he’s working in the caf, she thanks him for whatever he puts on her tray. She sees him on garbage collection once and looks away before he notices her. Then he’s back in the caf the following week. She knows Bean’s mostly handling scheduling now, has an Excel sheet that makes it easy. Allie stays hands off from the things she doesn’t need to be actively involved in. She doesn’t want to micromanage and also just doesn’t have time to be on top of absolutely everything. She trusts Bean. She’s trying to be better at letting things go.

It’s September when he finally speaks to her. It’s a little surprising, really. Shoe’s with her, and he doesn’t talk a lot anyway, so she’s just sort of moving through the food line and Harry’s there with rice and beans, looks at her and gives her a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.

“You look tired,” he says, and god, it irritates her immediately. Not because it’s just like, genuinely a shitty thing to do, to tell someone they look tired. But because the last time he said it… He knows she’s going to think about the last time he said it.

“You look like shit,” she tells him, because it’s what comes to mind. He looks...He looks a mess, if she’s being honest. His eyes are drooping, and he hasn’t shaved, and his hair’s badly in need of some attention. His shirt is wrinkled under his apron, and she can see some bruising and a cut on his knuckles.

She wants to glance at Shoe and see what he might know, but she doesn’t do that in front of Harry, either.

“Come on, now. I dressed up just for you.”

Something shines in his eyes, then, and Allie…

She knows she’s smiling.

She still just thanks him when he spoons some food into her dish. He still nods just once.

Allie spends the rest of the day wondering what’s going on with him. Wondering why he’s flirting with her, throwing old conversations back at her like he wants to remind her what it was like. What they were like. As if those versions of themselves still exist. It’s almost jarring that his demeanour is so bright when his appearance is so rough.

She glances over her shoulder at him before she leaves the caf. He’s got his eyes cast downward.

She tells Kelly maybe he needs a visit, and that maybe if she’s willing and he lets her, he could use a haircut, too.

… … …

She can’t get over the way he said, “Especially you.”

It’s kind of ridiculous, but she turns it over and over in her head all day. What the fuck did that mean? Especially her? Like somehow it’s her fault he’s depressed? Or like he cares too much about what she thinks and he didn’t want her to see him like that? She wants an answer and she doesn’t think she’s entitled to one. For once, she thinks he should get to have his shit and he doesn’t owe her anything. Just because she wants to know what he meant doesn't mean he has to tell her. She’s kept shit from him, too. They’ve been together enough since they got here - though definitely not recently - and he could have pushed her harder to talk about things than he did. Even before Cassandra. They could have named this thing, and she thinks maybe he wanted them to. But they didn’t because she didn’t really let him. And then everything changed anyway, so what’s the point?

But god, the way he’d held onto her wrist when she’d reached for it, the way his eyes had closed like he was _relieved_ , or something…

They’re two people who have touched a lot, but never really like that. Not really.

She’s _worried_ , and she’s been worried since she heard he’s not well, and especially since she walked into his room and saw the state of it and him. He’s obviously not okay, and while she had to do something about it for optics’ sake, to make an example of him, she knows that’s not going to help him and probably really just made things worse. Allie doesn’t want him to feel worse.

He doesn’t answer when she calls, which isn’t surprising. She tries again immediately and it just rings and rings, and Allie...God, this place has made her such a fucking alarmist. All she can do is fear the worst.

It’s almost midnight when she goes downstairs with her shoes and jacket on, and Grizz is awake, reading in the living room. He looks at her like he’s wondering why she’s up, and while she was hoping she’d be able to just leave without anyone knowing, she knows that if she’s got to tell anyone, Grizz is the best candidate.

“I’m going to check on Harry.”

She sounds firm and sure of herself and not to be fucked with. If Grizz is surprised, he doesn’t show it. He just asks, “Do you want me to come with you?” and Allie loves that he’s not just forcing it or assuming.

She shakes her head, pushes her hair behind her ear. “I’ll be fine. I don’t know how long I’ll be, though.”

He purses his lips like he isn’t sure how this will go over with anyone else who might find out about it, might wake up and notice her gone. He’s probably thinking about Will, specifically. She doesn’t honestly care, and maybe that’s a little to do with the fact that this is the first time she’ll have gone to see Harry and actually had a good reason and won’t just have to lie. That part is actually almost a little funny to her.

“Update me,” he says, and he doesn’t sound like he’s joking. The difference between Grizz and the rest of the guard is that she and Grizz are actually friends, and she knows he’s genuinely concerned.

So she nods, and then leaves. It’s cool at night. She sticks her hands in her pockets and walks towards Harry’s place. She’s kind of come to like this town best when it’s dark and quiet like this. She’s spent enough time out here. And it’s probably a bit messed up, but it sort of… She likes that it removes the in between, you know? Like, it’s not a bustling town and it’s not a weird place where there’re too few people. There’s nobody and no one and it feels like she’s completely alone, and she likes that. It’s not a thing she should want, but she does, sometimes. Like she can almost imagine this as a Castaway type situation where she’s the only one, and how much easier that might be.

It would be harder, too, but she ignores those bits.

Harry’s side door is locked when she gets there so she taps gently, and then a light goes on, which sort of surprises her. She honestly figured she’d have to be persistent until he got annoyed and got up just to make her stop. But he opens the door moments later and he looks adequately surprised that it’s her. And then he just turns around and walks back in, goes to his bed but doesn’t tell her to leave or shut the door on her face.

So maybe his ‘especially you’ was a little weak and he didn’t mean it.

She should let that go.

Now that she’s here, she doesn’t know why she came.

He looks small and sad and alone on his bed with just his feet tucked up under his covers. Allie kicks off her shoes and takes off her jacket, drops it on the floor and flicks the lock on the door. She gets into bed with him and reaches down, pulls the covers up over both of them. She notices the way his eyes flutter closed when she practically tucks him in, pulls the blankets over his shoulder. She slides her hand over his ribs and fits herself up against him and feels him take in a breath, but then it sort of catches. His body shakes a little, and it’s a bit heartbreaking that she thinks he might be crying. It happens again and Allie just...It’s instinct, or something, when she presses her lips against the back of his shoulder through his shirt. She’s not trying to start anything. She’s not an idiot. She’s just…

Everything about their interactions earlier and now make her think he just wants human contact, and so she’s trying to get herself as close to him as possible. She tugs at his side until he’s moving onto his back, and then she puts herself up against him, her head on his chest and her leg moving over his.

“What are you doing?” he croaks out, voice hoarse. Probably because he’s not talking to anyone.

She doesn’t _know_ what she’s doing. She’s just not going to let him be alone.

“Do you want me to stop?” she asks quietly, and he tightens his hold on her like he’s afraid she’ll leave now that she’s said that out loud.

“No,” he breathes, and though Allie knows it’s wrong for about 80 different reasons, she wants to kiss him. But she doesn’t.

“What’s going on?” she asks, and he’s shaking his head. She wants to move so she can get a better look at him as they talk, but he’s got one arm around her shoulder and the other on her waist. She doesn’t want to take that comfort away from him.

He doesn’t answer. She doesn't think he can articulate it. She gets that. She gets that so fucking much.

They lie there like that for a bit, and when it becomes apparent to her that he’s not going to fall asleep, she wants to do something else. Something different. He can’t just stay in bed, right? She can’t just lie here doing nothing and think that’s healing him in any meaningful way. She’s also not a fucking therapist so she doesn’t know what she _should_ do.

She says, “Let’s have a shower,” and feels such a ridiculous sense of accomplishment when he lets out this breathy little laugh. She sits up and smiles a little, looking down at him. His fingers wrap gently around her upper arm like he just needs to be grounded to her, or something. (Like he’s afraid she’ll go and he’ll be alone again.) “Come on.”

“Together?” he asks, and it’s not...There’s absolutely nothing flirtatious or sexy about it. He’s really just asking if they’re going to get naked together and have a shower.

She should probably feel more shy about it, but she doesn’t. At all. She hasn’t been undressed with him or anyone else in ages, but she’s not feeling too precious about it.

So she says, “Yeah,” and gives him a look she sort of hopes will make him do it. Just because she thinks it’s something that might make him feel...if not better, then at least different. Will get him upright and out of this bed. He doesn’t smell bad or anything, so she’s assuming he’s been taking a base amount of care of himself.

Allie just...She’s grasping at straws when she pulls her shirt over her head and drops it behind her on the bed. He’s just looking at her with a sort of blank look on his face. But then his eyes drop, and it almost feels like a challenge. Like he’s not really sure she’s serious unless she keeps undressing.

Allie likes challenges.

She ticks one brow up and can't help this little grin she gives him, reaches behind her back for the clasp of her bra and watches him swallow as she tugs the straps down her arms.

“Allie,” he says, and then nothing else, and she doesn’t know if he’s trying to protest, or what.

“Come on,” she tells him, pulls the covers off him as she gets up. She pushes her pants down off her hips and he leans up on his elbows to watch, so that’s something.

She goes into the bathroom without saying anything else, reaches into the shower and messes with the knobs until the water starts coming out at a pleasant temperature. It’s bigger than her shower at home, which really isn’t surprising. The water pressure looks better, too; this huge showerhead that she thinks will mean neither of them will freeze if they actually get in here together.

She waits until he appears in the doorway to the bathroom before she slips her underwear down her legs, then picks them up off the floor and sort of folds them haphazardly so she can set them on the counter. Maybe it’s weird, but she doesn’t want to leave her underwear on the _floor_.

She watches him take his shirt off, toss it into a hamper she notices behind the door. He grins just the slightest bit when she points to his pants. A few months ago he might’ve made some comment about her being impatient. Then again, a few months ago they would’ve been getting undressed with different intentions than this.

His hand is warm, low on her hip, when he’s fully undressed, too, and he’s pushing her towards the shower. She steps under the spray and then puts her hand on his wrist to make sure he doesn’t bail, though she couldn’t tell you why she thinks he would. His hand slides over her wet skin and he licks water from his lips as she turns around and he looks down at her. Honestly, he just looks like he knows he should want more than just this, just them showering together, but he doesn’t. And that’s...God, it’s not what she wanted, either. She’s not trying to seduce him, for fuck’s sake. She’s just trying to get him moving.

Allie smiles, reaches up and pushes his hair back under the spray so it’s all slicked back like it was that night after he was swimming. His lips twitch a little like he remembers that, too. Then she reaches for the shampoo he has in here - some fancy shit with a pretty label she’s never seen before - and passes it to him. She’s not going to like, wash his hair for him. He sets about doing it, and she feels weird just standing here, so she grabs his body wash, squirts some into her hands and rubs them together, and runs them over her skin and tries not to think he looks kind of weirdly good with the suds in his hair, his fingers massaging his scalp. Maybe it’s just how intimate this all is. It’s obviously something she’s never done with anyone else, and it’s such a like, solitary activity, right?

Watching Harry tip his head back under the spray to rinse shampoo from his hair makes her think he could be a fucking model. She almost tells him so, but thinks better of it.

He’s standing there, then, looking at her as she rinses her skin, and she just looks at him questioningly.

“Conditioner,” he says, and he _smirks_ and it’s so familiar it makes something warm spread through her chest.

“Of course,” she says, eyes flicking up to his hair. “No split ends for you.”

He shakes his head and holds out his hand. She opens the bottle and drops some product into his palm, though she has no idea how much he uses. She just assumes it’s a lot less than what she puts in her own hair. Her own hair that’s getting soaked and is going to be a dry, crunchy mess if she doesn’t do something here, too. So she gives herself some conditioner, too, starts working it into the ends of her hair and moving upward. Harry’s sort of watching her do it.

“I really like your hair,” he tells her, which feels a little random, but isn’t unpleasant. Honestly, it’s a relief that he’s even talking.

“Yeah?”

He nods, reaches over, slips his fingers down through it, his hand brushing her shoulder as he does it. Then his hand curves around her hip again and he takes a step forward. She moves back, though she really doesn’t mind being closer to him. Her back ends up against the cool tile wall and Harry’s right there, his body against hers, and he leans down, kisses her gently. His other hand goes into her hair, then, and Allie just presses her fingers into the skin at the base of his back. He kisses her a little more fervently then, and she likes it. She likes it so much.

“Why are you here?” he asks, then bends his head a little and just sort of hugs her, leans against her.

She pushes a little, so he’s back under the spray, and reaches up to push her hands through his hair, rinsing out the conditioner. It’s really just to buy her some time to find a proper answer. But maybe there isn’t one.

She settles on, “Because I want to be,” and Harry’s hand flexes on her waist before he takes it off and finishes the job himself.

Then he moves so Allie can rinse her hair, too, and he uses body wash. She gets out before he’s done because all she wants to do is kiss him and she doesn’t think he really actually needs or wants that right now. It’d be selfish of her and she’s trying really hard not to be selfish. She wraps one of his navy blue towels around herself after drying off a little, and her hair is dripping on the floor, but she tries not to care about that too much.

She leans back against the counter and waits, and then he cuts the water and turns to get out of the shower. She reaches for his towel and holds it out for him, and he really does grin again and takes it, starts drying off and then wraps it around his hips.

“You look hot,” he tells her, then comes forward, presses his hips right against hers so she’s pinned to the counter. It makes her want him, but it still feels like a bad idea. He glances down, and then pushes her hair back a bit. “Really hot.”

“Harry,” she laughs, and then does the opposite of what she was trying to do just then - which was get him to stop hitting on her - and puts her hands up on his shoulders, wipes the water droplets away. He leans in a little, bends his head just so, and _yeah_ , she wants to kiss him, but that’s… “Why did you say you especially didn’t want to see me?”

He smirks, eyes focused where the towel is wrapped and tucked down between her breasts. He reaches up and traces the knuckle of his index finger along her skin and then tugs a little at the towel so it comes undone. She doesn't stop him. She should, but she doesn’t.

“I didn’t know what you wanted was to shower together.”

“Stop,” she whispers. He listens, puts his hands on the counter on either side of her, though the towel is still definitely not covering her. He lets out his breath. “I’m really asking.”

He’s not looking at her when he says, “You’re the person who has the most reason to hate me,” and it makes her throat feel tight and her stomach drop. “And we can’t even fucking avoid each other here.”

She lets out a laugh that sounds like she’s two seconds from crying, and then feels really fucking selfish for getting emotional. This is about him. She doesn’t want to make it about her. She shouldn’t have asked in the first place.

But also…

“Does it look like I’m trying to avoid you right now?” she asks, and it does definitely prompt him to look down again at her naked body. She still doesn’t care. “I don’t hate you.”

Harry pulls the towel back up around her, holds it there until she pulls her hands down off him and fastens it closed again. He looks like he’s getting ready to move away, and she doesn’t want that. At all. She puts both hands on his sides and looks up at him. He seems really uncomfortable.

He seems like he doesn’t believe her.

“I don’t hate you,” she repeats. His hands move closer, so they're right up against her hips but he’s not really holding her. They’re just balled in fists and pressing against her.

“But I…”

He can’t even say it.

(Well, she assumes he’s talking about Cassandra. What other reason would Allie have for hating him?)

“I don’t like what you did, but I…” He looks at her with his head bowed, his lashes dark and fanned out, perfectly turned up at the outside edges of his eyes. “I like you.”

As soon as she’s said it, it sounds like a lot. Too much. Does she even like him? It doesn’t feel like a lie. It just feels like something she should’ve held back. Something that could’ve been just for her to know. Telling him makes it real, makes it exist in the world. If he knows about it, she can’t pretend it’s not true, can’t pretend it’ll go away.

She watches his bottom lip move, and then he’s taking these breaths, and his eyes get a little shiny, and Allie...God, this is different than earlier, when she thinks he was crying. She thinks if she has to watch it, it’ll break her fucking heart. He puts his arms around her, anyway, hugs her again and Allie holds him close.

He says, “I’m so sorry,” all quietly, and Allie nods, because she knows. She knows he meant it when he said it at her house. She’s never doubted that for even a second. She just wasn’t ready to hear it. “Everything is just so fucked up. I don’t wanna fucking be here.”

Allie freezes, then feels like her breathing gets a little fucked up. She puts her hands on his sides and pushes until he’s moving away. There’s a tear on his cheek. She realizes she’s crying, too, when he reaches up with his thumb and wipes just beneath her eye.

“What do you mean by that?” she asks a little desperately.

Harry tilts his head, shoulders sagging a bit like he realizes what she’s upset about. And like, she’s just told him she likes him and basically forgiven him, and he can’t just…

“I wanna go home,” he tells her. It sounds firm. A little bit of his normal fight back in his voice. “I want none of this to ever have happened, and I want...Fuck, Allie.” He curves his hand over the side of her neck, presses his fingers into her skin just how she likes. “I think I want _you_.”

She has no fucking idea what to say to that. It’s heavy and painful and fucking complicated that she’s thinking mostly the same things. That they sort of had something - they were sort of starting something - and Cassandra dying changed that. Separate from Harry’s part in it, Cassandra’s death alone...Allie has to do all this shit now. Harry saying what he did was the icing on the cake. She was fucking angry at him and would’ve been even if she hadn’t had to step up. But it’s been really easy to blame him for everything. For all the shit that’s happened since that she didn’t want to do.

And it’s been particularly easy to be angry at him because he said what he said even while he and Allie were messing around and spending time together. She’s never wanted to say it, but part of why it hurt is that he didn’t even consider how it’d hurt _her_. Even if Cassandra hadn’t died and the worst thing that happened was his words getting spread around and Allie finding out about them, it still would’ve felt like shit to know the guy she was into could be so awful about the person she loves most in the world.

Allie’s tired of being angry with him. She likes that he’s just come right out and said it.

“I’m here, aren’t I?”

He breathes a bitter laugh. “You’re here now.” She narrows her eyes at him. “Oh, come on. If someone hadn’t forced you to make a call on the rules earlier today, you wouldn’t have given a shit.” She wants to argue. She does. “Until the next time you needed to come.”

Okay, rude.

“So you get to say you care about me, but I don’t get to say I care about you?” she asks, sounds a little angry, but they’re still so close, still standing here in his stupid bathroom and she’s getting cold, but she doesn’t want to move, either. “You’re not the only one this has been hard for.” Fuck, that makes it sound like she’s saying he should just suck it up. “I didn’t realize you were having such a hard time. As soon as I did, I fucking showed up for you.”

Harry takes a breath, but doesn’t argue. Maybe he knows she’s right. They’re sort of terrible at expressing their emotions, but it’s not as though this has been in any way easy for them. None of it has.

“I don’t want to think of this place without you,” she says quietly, because being mad is...She’s tired of it. She doesn’t want it. It’s not what either of them needs. He doesn’t respond. His hand is still there on her neck. She brings hers up to his wrist again, and he takes a deep breath. And then… She just really wants to be honest. “I think I want you, too.”

He just looks at her, then leans in and rests his forehead against hers, and they stay there like that, just breathing, and Allie lets herself think for just a fraction of a second that there’s some other reality where they’re just...Maybe they got caught in the rain and showered to warm up and he’s said something suggestive that’s laced with just enough sweetness to make her pull him closer.

She should get out of her head. He’s literally right in front of her.

She leans forward, presses her lips against his, and he kisses her back like it’s the easiest thing in the world. It’s gentle, and sweet, and exactly what she wants after them both confessing this thing. She just feels powerless, like she can’t do anything to make it happen in the way they’re both hoping they could. And she really wants to take him to bed, but she’s absolutely not going to assume he wants that.

Then both his hands are on her face and his tongue’s against her bottom lip, and when he pulls away for just a moment, he says her name like he can’t really believe they’re doing this, either.

“We don’t have to,” she says, and Harry breathes a laugh against her cheek, then looks down at her, this sort of gorgeous smile on his lips, just barely there. “I just mean if you…”

He almost looks relieved. It’s jarring. To have him pressed against her this way, both of them undressed, and for him to be looking at her like he likes that she said that. Likes that she’s confirming in some way that this somehow isn’t just about sex. That sex isn’t all she wants. But she’ll be honest, it’s not out of line for him to think maybe that’s all she wanted. She hasn’t exactly shown up here in quite a while with any other goal in mind other than getting naked with him.

The thought makes her laugh, mostly at their current position. His smile blooms a little into something bigger and...They should really get dressed. Allie shoves at his chest, but he asks what she’s laughing at and she almost says some silly joke about his appearance, but that seems shitty and also like something he’d absolutely - and rightfully - call her on.

“Let’s go lie down,” she says, and he just blinks at her. “You look tired.”

He breathes a laugh at her little reference, watches her hold her towel closed and grab her underwear off the counter.

Honestly, she needs to get her shit together and put space between them. Like, it’s not that deep and she can fucking control herself, but if he keeps looking at her like that…

She pulls her pants and bra back on, then her shirt. She tugs her hair out of the back and knows she’s setting herself up for disaster when she just lies down and gets under the covers. She’s freezing now that he’s not all pressed against her. He emerges and she doesn’t watch him get dressed, just lies there with her back to him until he rounds the bed in a long sleeved tee shirt and sweats. She wonders if she should suggest they go outside, but he just gets back into bed, hand finding her waist easily under the covers.

“Are you staying?” he asks, not looking at her. She nods. “Yeah?”

“Yes,” she says, because maybe he’ll believe it if she says it out loud. But then… “Fuck.”

She needs to find her phone. Harry looks surprised, then almost bothered she’s moving away. Her phone is on the floor, fell out of her pocket. She grabs it, then sits on the bed, Harry’s hand on her thigh as she types out a message for Grizz. She tosses it down the bed after, not wanting to actually see his response to her saying she’s staying the night.

“All good?” he asks, and she nods and just says Grizz’s name. “Right.”

“I’m getting your pillow all wet,” she says as she lies back down and gets her legs all tangled up with his.

“It’s okay.” She’s watching him, liking the way his hand’s splayed on her side, thankful she’s warming up. But then he says, “Close your eyes,” all soft.

She wonders if he’s just trying to get her to fall asleep before she changes her mind about staying. She hates that, too.

“You first,” she whispers, gets her hand all tangled up in his shirt and likes the soft breath he lets out like that’s comforting, too.

… … …

She didn’t expect him to be like, cured, or something. No, she knows she’s not that powerful. He still takes another four days before he’s back to work, and even then, he puts in a request to do a solitary duty where he’s not around a bunch of people. She grants it. She gets flack for it, but she doesn’t care. No one knows she’s doing him favours because she’s invested. They just think she’s being too nice to someone who’s shirked duties; they think he should have to take what he’s given. She just tells them all to have some fucking compassion. Will seems pissed about it, but Allie doesn’t care at all.

It’s easy to sneak out at night after everyone’s asleep. It’s not like she does it every night. He doesn’t leave his fucking door unlocked for her, or anything.

But when she shows up, cold from the walk, and he tugs her in by the front of her sweater and says, “It’s fucking freezing. Jesus,” it makes her laugh. And when he pulls her close to him in bed, he says something about needing to do it to warm her up, and she doesn’t say anything about the fact that it’s clearly not about that. Not really. And they kiss a little, hands wandering but staying mostly above their waists. But really, they just get tired together and fall asleep. Allie sets her alarm for before the sun comes up. He doesn’t wake up when she goes.

There’s a book open on his bed the second time she shows up. He’s just let her in and she’s kicked off her shoes and she sees that he’s been reading. It’s different from the other times. He’s _doing_ something.

“What’s that?” she asks, pointing to it. He reaches for it, holds up the cover. It’s an old hardcover copy of Les Mis that looks like it’s seen a lot of use over the years.

“It was one of my dad’s favourites.” Allie smiles, sits down on the bed, and takes the book from him. The pages are tattered at the edges. “Figure I’ve got some time now to actually read it.”

“Do you like it?”

He laughs a little. “Not really.”

Allie doesn’t know what to say to that. He looks good. Like he shaved today. She remembers their shower. Then after the shower.

She reaches for his shirt, pulls him close. She parts her legs so he can stand between them. Harry’s hands go to her face and he tips her head back a bit, but it almost makes her laugh; she was absolutely going to keep looking at him.

“Do you wanna talk about the French Revolution, or do you wanna kiss me?”

“It’s actually set after the Revolution.”

Okay, honestly, who cares?

“Harry,” she breathes, and watches him grin. “Do you want to talk about post-Revolution France, or do you wanna kiss me?”

He wets his bottom lip, leans down. “Kiss you,” he says quietly, but he’s not fucking doing it, so.

She puts her hands on his wrists, lies back. Harry moves so he’s on top of her. It feels like it’s been a really long time since they were last together. Realistically, it hasn’t. So maybe what she’s feeling is that so much has happened since the last time.

“I’m nervous,” he admits, and it makes her laugh. He’s grinning as he says it, so she doesn’t feel bad for her reaction. God, she can barely remember when everything felt so simple and she’d sort of roasted him for saying that.

“Why?” she asks, pushing his hair off his face. It’s too long. She doesn't think it matters. He shrugs. She should push him, but doesn’t really have it in her to do it. “Do you want to stop?”

His lips find her jaw, and he says, “Don’t be stupid, Allie” into her ear as his hand slides up her thigh, so. Whatever. He can sort it out all on his own.

She likes falling asleep with him. She likes that they have sides of the bed, and that he likes to spoon her, and that his arm always presses against her like he wants to make sure they’re as close as possible. She likes how easy it is to close her eyes. How she can focus on the way they’re both breathing and let her mind slow down a little.

Harry says, “Goodnight,” and she just lets out a hum, already half asleep.

… … ...

She texts him when she doesn't see him at Thanksgiving. He sends back that he’s not up for it, doesn’t want to be around a bunch of people. She figured that was the case, and tries not to take it too personally that he doesn’t show. She really wanted perfect attendance, even though that’s a stupid goal to have had and really doesn’t mean anything at all.

She thinks of him again when she’s in pain, on her bed, with Bean pushing her sweaty hair back off her face. It’s so fucking stupid and she thinks she’s legitimately delirious, but she almost asks for him. She’s waiting for Will, wants Will by her side, but then there’s Harry, too.

She’s positive she’s going to die. She’s never felt as awful as this and it feels like it’s never going to end, and it just gets worse and worse and she just...Whatever this is, there’s no recovering from it. There’s no way she’ll just get over it and go on. She can barely lift her head to throw up. At one point, Kelly turns her on her side so she doesn’t choke. But Allie...she wonders if she even cares, if there’s even any point in trying to fight it.

And then everything’s sort of black and when she wakes up again, she feels less like her insides are grinding together. Will’s right there, and she thinks he hasn’t actually left. Allie makes some stupid joke with him, because laughing feels little more normal.

Will helps her into bed when they get home. She promises she’s fine and he can leave her alone

She doesn’t text Harry. She doesn’t know what to say.

When they’re talking about who could’ve done it and his name is brought up, she rolls her eyes, feeling more defensive of him than she should. She says he can barely get out of bed because it’s honestly true, and because it’ll get him off the hook.

It’s mid afternoon when he writes _’What the fuck are you okay?’_

She sends him a selfie of her in bed with tea and her school sweater on, but he doesn’t seem to think that’s an answer. He sends back _’???’ _. So she says she’s fine, but that Thanksgiving food is probably forever ruined.__

__He sends _’When can I see you?’_ and Allie slips further down in her bed and doesn’t have an actual answer, so she just says, _’soon’_ , and lets herself be happy that he seems to miss her at least a little. _ _

__… … …_ _

__When Will gets into her bed, Allie feels the least comfortable she’s ever been with him._ _

__Not because of any boundary or whatever that might exist between two friends, but because it’s awkward. Physically. He’s close, his head right there, heavy on her shoulder, and her arms are up, hands clutching her blanket. She feels like she can’t move, feels like her shoulders are up by her ears._ _

__She’s not _surprised_ by it, really. She saw him take his fucking pillow and round the bed. There’s literally only one thing he could’ve been doing. But it’s weird. It’s weird how wrong it feels. She feels like she doesn’t have enough room in the bed - her own bed. Her, perched on the edge, and Will keeping her there, the rest of the bed spread out behind him, unused but claimed by him anyway. _ _

__She’s not thinking of Harry in terms of being guilty about this, or anything ridiculous like that. She and Harry are...undefined. Not nothing, but nothing extraordinary. That feels like a lie as soon as the thought passes her mind. She can’t imagine he’d be pleased about her sharing a bed with someone else, but it’s also barely his fucking business; they’re not _dating_._ _

__No, she’s thinking of Harry in terms of how much _more_ she likes it when he’s the one she’s in bed with. She’s thought about this, too, about him coming to her house, getting into her bed. About the two of them pressed together in the middle of the bed like they do at his house, but just _here_. _ _

__She wants that._ _

__After Will’s fallen asleep, she gets up and pads down the stairs quietly, fixes herself a cup of chamomile and sits on the sofa with a light on and a book in her hands. No one else gets up. She considers going to Harry’s, but feels weird about it with Will upstairs literally sleeping in her bed._ _

__She falls asleep after a while, and in the morning, doesn’t want to deal with the confused look on Will’s face when he comes downstairs and finds her there._ _

__… … …_ _

__She really doesn’t expect Harry to call her in the middle of the day. That’s not a thing they do. But he says, “Campbell’s up to something,” and she _knows_ , because she’s been stewing about it since Kelly told her Harry’s name is on the signup sheet to run for mayor and that Campbell’s the one who put it there._ _

__Allie just tells him she’ll come over later. He says her name a little frantically, like he doesn’t want to wait, wants to talk _now_ , but she doesn’t care and he doesn’t get to decide all this shit. _ _

__“What did he say?” she asks as soon as the door to his bedroom is closed behind her. They haven’t seen each other in a week and a half, and she…_ _

__He looks good._ _

__“He wants shit to change and knows no one’ll vote for him.” She scoffs, rolls her eyes and starts pacing. He’s just sitting at the edge of his bed watching her, his elbows on his knees. “I’m not fucking running.” She chews her thumbnail as she thinks. She just...She thinks about what Helena just texted her about Elle, and what she knows from her childhood, and Sam, and… “Allie.”_ _

__“Hang on,” she replies quickly, and then takes a deep breath, turns to him. She nods before she says anything, and he looks confused. “Yes, you are.”_ _

__His eyes narrow, he sits up, and his lips part. “No,” he says, shaking his head. “No. Absolutely not. What the fuck are you talking about?”_ _

__“If he’s up to something, it’s bigger than just wanting change. If he wanted change, he’d force it in some other way. This is...There’s something else.” He’s just blinking, watching her. “This is good. We can use this.”_ _

__“Use _what_?” he asks, and then laughs humourlessly. “And who’s _we_? You think your little in-crowd is gonna like that you’re pulling me in?”_ _

__She grins without meaning to. This shouldn’t be _exciting_._ _

__“That’s the thing,” she tells him. She walks closer, sets her hands on his shoulders. He looks scared or annoyed that this is happening. Fair. “No one else can know.”_ _

__His shoulders sag and he tilts his head. “What?”_ _

__“I think we can do this, but no one else can know, Harry. No one. This has to be you and me and no one else.” His lips twitch a little, but she really needs to ignore that he might like the way that sounds. “If we can catch him gerrymandering, or whatever, then we can actually arrest him.”_ _

__“This isn’t gerrymandering. That’s literally not the definition.” That’s annoying. Allie shifts her weight, sighs. Harry’s still shaking his head. “This is fucking insane. You’re insane.”_ _

__“No, _he’s_ insane, and he doesn’t know I have a secret weapon.” Harry blinks, breathes deeply, then reaches up and puts his hands on her arms. Tilts his head like he at least wants to know what the fuck she’s talking about. “This.” _ _

__He smiles a little, but then forces it away. “What?”_ _

__Allie steps closer, so she’s right there between his knees, and watches him look down._ _

__Yeah, exactly._ _

__“He doesn’t know about you and I. If we can keep it that way, we can play him, and he’ll just think he’s playing us.”_ _

__“This feels dangerous.”_ _

__Allie wonders what he knows. If he knows about Elle. It feels fucked up to tell him, so she doesn’t. She keeps that to herself._ _

__“I need to know that you’re in,” she says, and he’s shaking his head again. “Harry.” She puts her hands on his face, makes him look at her. “I’m serious. It’s you and me, and you can’t tell anyone. No one. Not even Kelly.”_ _

__“Kelly?” he asks, like he’s surprised she’s bringing that name into things. Like he’s surprised she knows about Kelly’s little home visits._ _

__“Promise me.”_ _

__“I don’t even know what I’m agreeing to.”_ _

__Honestly, she’s not totally sure, either. She’s...she’s figuring it out as she goes._ _

__“You trust me, right?” she asks, and it comes out quiet. Because she isn’t entirely sure if he does. If he should. If he even wants to. God, do they even actually know each other that well?_ _

__“I mean.” He heaves a breath and looks up at her. “Yeah, but…”_ _

__“I need some time to figure out a plan. But I need you.”_ _

__He looks a little flattered, twists his lips like he’s trying not to smile, and then tugs at the front of her sweater so she’ll lean down. She kisses him. She thinks this is his agreement, but she really wants to hear it._ _

__“Okay,” he breathes, sounding nervous. “Okay, fine. I’ll do it.”_ _

__He laughs when she pushes him back onto the bed, her knees astride him._ _

__She doesn’t stay the night. One of the things they’re going to have to do is make really fucking sure no one thinks they’re working together._ _

__… … …_ _

__Showing up late to a public place is all part of her plan. There’re enough people there to witness this conversation between her and Harry. As she’s walking in, she sees the people at the table behind him already talking about him, which she’s privately sort of pissed about on his behalf. She’s sure he can hear them. But she knows they’ll be eavesdropping on them, anyway._ _

__She gets a little annoyed when he doesn’t even _pretend_ to read the rules of the debate. He knows them all. They’ve talked about it. But for optics, he should study the paper longer than he does, and then she realizes maybe she’s overreacting. The way everyone thinks he is, they’ll assume he just doesn’t give a shit about the rules and is going to do whatever he wants anyway._ _

__The thing about them being friends almost makes him break. She sees the little smile on his lips as he asks, “Yeah?” and she thinks he likes to improv, or something._ _

__(She wonders, too, if the smile is genuine, but also if it makes sense with the act they’re putting on. Like he, the Harry everyone thinks he is, would want to be friends with her. She can’t think about that right now.)_ _

__And then he stops, says, “Let me know if you work it out,” and Allie...God, she thinks he _likes_ this. The sneaking around. The plotting. The acting. It seems so different from how he was the other night, all scared and unsure. But then again, he’s never really that way in public; no one really knows that side of him. When he touches her shoulder, she wants more, but knows she doesn’t let on._ _

__He texts her later, asks her how he did. She thinks he’s fishing for compliments at first, but then she realizes he’s just actually insecure, and says it was good. It was fine. Shoe bought it, told her Harry was being an asshole, as usual. Allie hadn’t laughed, but wanted to. She doesn’t tell Harry that part._ _

__Elle coming to her sort of plays directly into her hands. It’s not that Allie didn’t know - that Helena hadn’t told her - but Allie hearing it straight from Elle, herself, makes this all easier to execute. She actually thinks Elle’s suggestion to arrest her makes sense. It also means she can take statements and evidence from Elle. She isn’t going to do that right this second, when Elle’s literally shaking and crying and playing with the tips of Allie’s fingers here on the sofa, but she knows she can’t have anything over Campbell if she doesn’t have these facts. There’s the video, which Elle says no one has seen but was sent straight from Campbell to Elle, and the mark on her arm that Allie already knows about. It makes her stomach turn to know there’s more._ _

__Harry calls her and tells her Campbell’s on his way and he’s _pissed_. _ _

__Allie braces herself, knows that even though Clark is pissed at her, he also won’t let anything happen to her or Elle. Not like this._ _

__She texts Harry back later, reminds him to delete his call and text logs. He replies _’I’m not stupid’_ , and she feels badly, sends back an apology and that she’s just trying to make sure they’re being thorough. But he knows the plan as well as she does. For the most part. There’s some stuff that has to change based on today, but she’ll fill him in on that, too. _ _

__All they need to do is prove Campbell’s pulling the strings and is hurting Elle. One without the other should be fine, but she knows it’s good to have a backup._ _

__… … ..._ _

__Harry wears a fucking suit to the debate. It’s nearly triggering for her, reminds her of Cassandra’s funeral. But this isn’t that, and he looks good. He even flashes her a little smile when no one else will be able to see._ _

__She hadn’t known the details of his speech - he and Campbell had worked on that together. Allie knows he barely looks at her as Helena talks, which is fine. Then, when he’s standing so he can take his turn, he catches Allie’s eye and she nods once. She immediately knows it’s fucking stupid and she shouldn’t have done it. But Harry ignores it and doesn’t pay it any mind or linger on her at all, just clears his throat and starts talking._ _

__The things he’s saying are mostly stupid, in her opinion, but he looks like he believes what he’s saying. Confident. Like this is all his idea and he really wants this. It’s perfect. They just need to get things to an actual vote. No, they need to get _close_ to the vote - for people to think he’s a candidate - before revealing the truth about Campbell and his hand in this. He actually says something nice about her, and she knows that’s all politicking, can see on Campbell’s smug fucking face that he thinks this is all going exactly as planned and Harry seeming benevolent will just magically make everyone vote for him. _ _

__He doesn’t take his eyes off her as she talks. It’s distracting. She does see him, just after she’s said the thing about life owing them, or whatever, look over to Campbell._ _

__Lexie coming up onto the stage throws a fucking wrench in things and Harry and Allie’s eyes meet across the space._ _

__Fuck._ _

__He looks panicked, but she blinks at him slowly, takes a deep breath herself and then watches as he plays with his hands. She’s got this. She can sort this out. Lexie’s a shit candidate and doesn’t really have anything prepared. She’s flying without a GPS, which is exactly how Allie would picture her as a leader. She literally doesn’t know what the fuck she’s doing and is just kicking up a dust cloud to get some attention and feel like her voice is heard._ _

__Campbell also looks properly scared of what’s happening, so Allie figures there has to be something he thinks Harry would provide that Lexie is messing with. Probably he just thinks it’ll be easier to win if it’s just Harry versus Allie. Harry, for his part, acts annoyed and bothered by what Lexie’s saying, which is just a good performance on his part. Although she does think he probably takes exception to being called a rich asshole._ _

__When things are turned on her, her stomach drops through the floor. Elle is mentioned, and Allie just...Harry looks at her like he doesn’t know what the fuck to do. She can see it in his eyes._ _

__Lexie could fucking win this thing. The points she’s making without anyone being allowed to issue a rebuttal make Allie look bad. Really fucking bad. Harry’s jaw twitches as Allie shifts in her seat._ _

__When she’s home at night, alone in her room after fighting with Will, after being fucking _furious_ with him for bringing up Cassandra like he just needed to remind her that this role was never really hers in the first place, she starts thinking. She needs to figure out why she wants to win in the first place. Is it true, what Lexie said? What Will just implied? That she just likes the power? That it was all about her sister for so long and once she got a taste of what it’s like to be in favour, to be the one people listen to, she’s unwilling to let it go? _ _

__But god. That’s not it at all. That’s not what she thinks. She just really thinks she’s the best person for this job, of the three of them. She’s better for it than Harry - and he knows that - and she’s definitely better than Lexie. Lexie doesn’t even have a plan, she just wants to unseat Allie. People are going to be intrigued or swayed by that because of the drama of it. The theatrics of Lexie jumping in at the eleventh hour with accusations Allie couldn’t address, and a promise to ‘stop’ her._ _

__No one was supposed to know about Elle. Allie feels stupid for not knowing they’d find out. She’s actually surprised that shit wasn’t in Harry’s speech. She wonders if he had something to do with its omission._ _

__He calls her, which...he’s always calling her and not the other way around. She should try to change that. She just doesn’t like to talk until she has something to say, and he tends to want information before she has it._ _

__“What the fuck are you gonna do?” he asks after she’s answered, and she puts her pillow over her head to muffle the sound of her talking, but also to make her world seem even smaller. “Allie.”_ _

__“I don’t know,” she admits. Harry’s silent. Like he’s used to her having answers and knows it’s pretty fucking significant that she doesn’t. “I don’t know yet. I need some time to think.”_ _

__“This is bad, isn’t it?”_ _

__She breathes, tries not to let herself cry. “Did I make a mistake, with Elle?”_ _

__“What?” he asks like that’s insane. “No. No, she can’t fucking...You need to keep her away from him.”_ _

__It gives Allie an idea, but it feels fucking awful to consider using Elle as a pawn in this game. The longer Elle’s kept away from Campbell, the more unhinged he’s going to be. He’ll make a mistake. But that’s absolutely not why Allie’s keeping her here._ _

__Allie also has this thought, and a lot of accompanying feelings about the difference between Will and Harry. Will’d slung it at her like an accusation, like her doing this for Elle is messing up Allie’s political pursuits and as such shouldn’t have been done. Harry knows it’s the right thing because Elle’s a human being who needs to stop being hurt. She doesn’t have time to think about the good versus evil debate and points for either of them in either column. She just knows she appreciates Harry’s support. That he seems to trust her to do this right, and isn’t implying that she needs him._ _

__“What do you think we should do?” she asks quietly, and he clearly hesitates._ _

__“You need to stop her from running.”_ _

__She scoffs. “What, am I supposed to just walk up to her and beg?”_ _

__“Admitting what happened to her was fucked up might help,” he says, and Allie...she really wants to tell him she’s scared. That this has gotten out of her control and she doesn't know how to fix it. Lying to everyone but him feels like shit and she doesn’t know why she thought it was smart. “I have to tell you something.”_ _

__She says, “Okay,” and it sounds like she’s holding her breath._ _

__“Campbell’s been giving me pills since prom.” It’s so blunt and abrupt that Allie thinks he’s rehearsed it, probably been turning it over in his mind for a while, how he might tell her._ _

__Still, she can’t help asking, “What?” though there’s really no way to misinterpret his words._ _

__“Sometimes I take them. Less often now. But...Before, it was…”_ _

__“Before what?” she breathes out, and he sighs._ _

__“When I was...was depressed. He was holding the reins pretty tightly.”_ _

__“I don’t know what that means.”_ _

__He breathes a bitter laugh. Allie doesn’t know what the fuck she’s gotten herself into. Everything’s turning upside down._ _

__“It means he gave me what he wanted when he wanted,” he tells her. “To keep me exactly how he wanted me.”_ _

__She really doesn’t have it in her to unpack all that this second. “And now?”_ _

__“Now there’s a steady supply as long as I do what he says.”_ _

__Allie grinds her teeth. “And you didn’t think this would be important information for me to have before we started all this?”_ _

__(She’s _worried_ about him. Wonders how she didn’t see it. But she can’t think about that right now. They can talk about that later.) _ _

__“All what, Allie?” he spits, incredulous. “I didn’t even fucking want to do this. Between you and him…”_ _

__“Don’t put me in the same category as him,” she insists quietly, careful not to raise her voice. No one can know she’s talking to him. _Will_ can’t know. “It’s really not the same.”_ _

__A silence stretches out between them, and she wants to take this all back. Everything she’s been trying to do for the last week or however long. This is all so monumentally stupid, and it’s already backfiring._ _

__“As long as he thinks I need the pills, he’ll keep thinking he has control, keep trying to use me,” he says, and it sounds logical, but she just…_ _

__“Do you?” she asks, and closes her eyes, hating herself for not noticing it. God, how come she could never see it? How did he manage to get _out_ of it? Isn’t withdrawal like, super dangerous and awful? “Need them?”_ _

__“No,” he says, but it’s shaky. “I mean, sometimes I fucking want them, but I don’t need them. Not like before.” Allie sucks in a long breath through her nose, lets it out in a whoosh past her lips. “He’ll tell me what his plan is with Lexie.”_ _

__She has tears in her eyes, she realizes, and she just… “Harry, I’m sorry.”_ _

__“What? Why?”_ _

__Yeah, that makes the tears fall. How is he so eagerly following her? Can he not see her faults? All the shit she’s done wrong? That _this_ is going wrong? _ _

__“For dragging you into this, and…I don’t know what to do.”_ _

__“You’ll figure it out,” he says gently, like he really does believe that. Allie just doesn’t understand how he could. “You’re good at this.”_ _

__She smiles a little. “Thanks for the shoutout in your speech.”_ _

__He laughs in her ear, and she wipes her eyes. Then he says, “It was the only part of it I really meant,” and his voice is all soft, and Allie really, really wishes she could see him. Be there with him in his bed. She hears him moving around, then. “You know what I can’t stop thinking about?”_ _

__Yeah, this voice? This voice is one she’s very, very familiar with. They’re not talking business anymore._ _

__“What’s that?” she asks, and then he takes a breath._ _

__“That little bikini.”_ _

__“Harry,” she groans, and then he’s laughing softly._ _

__“Seriously. That was...Thinking about that got me through some dark shit,” he says teasingly, and she wants to poke holes in that, but maybe he’s telling the truth. She doesn’t know what to think. “We’ll have to lay out in my yard this summer.”_ _

__Something squeezes in her chest at the thought. At the idea that the two of them will still be something - will _actually_ be something - by the summer. It’s a little jarring that he’s thinking this way, but she likes it, too. She knows once this is all over they’ll have no reason not to be together, for other people to know they’re something. That there’s something going on between them. Maybe, actually, when all this is over, they’ll have a proper conversation about it. Define some things. _ _

__She secretly really loves the idea of tanning with him in his backyard by the pool on one of those obnoxious chairs he has out there._ _

__“That sounds nice,” she says, and then yawns, and he laughs a little. “Bed time?”_ _

__“For you, maybe,” he says darkly. Allie thinks it’s absolutely stupid that they’re being so casual when all this shit is going on and when he’s just confessed something about a drug problem that sounds a little terrifying. “I’ve got more thinking to do about that bikini.”_ _

__She half wants to tell him to shut up, and half wants to tell him to enjoy._ _

__“I have the same one in three colours,” she shares, and likes the low sound he lets out. “If that helps the cause.”_ _

__After they’ve hung up, he texts her, asking what colours. She replies and then types out goodnight in all caps but also sends the kiss emoji, and this is the kind of stupid, childish, high school shit she feels she was deprived of with him and refuses to feel badly about._ _

__… … …_ _

__It goes about as poorly with Lexie as is possible. Allie knows she’s right. She’s right to ask Lexie to step down, to offer a spot on the council, to tell her she doesn’t know what the fuck she’s doing and that it’ll only get worse once she’s elected. And Allie knows now that that’s exactly what’s going to happen._ _

__Lexie’s better at campaigning. She’s turning people against Allie, and it’s an easy thing to do at the moment. The optics of Elle’s arrest and Lexie’s treatment while she was in custody are pretty much bad enough to make most people think Allie’s up to some seriously sinister shit that can’t continue. And there are maybe 20 or so people who’ll vote for Harry. Maybe a few more, if they don’t like Lexie but think Allie’s guilty of this thing they’re saying she is. But Lexie will win with the most votes, if not a proper majority._ _

__Allie thinks maybe if she tells Lexie about Elle - about Campbell’s abuse - she could get her on their side, too. She could come clean about everything. About Elle, and hiding it, and Harry, and how they’re working together. The personal side of things doesn’t have to have anything to do with it._ _

__She’s thinking about all this when Harry calls her, hisses something frantic and hushed about a _coup_. About Campbell wanting to get the guard on his side. _ _

__“Do it,” she says, steeled against these facts._ _

__“What?” he whispers._ _

__“You have to do it. Go along with it.”_ _

__“Allie.”_ _

__“Harry.”_ _

__He sighs after a moment. “This is getting way out of control.”_ _

__He’s not wrong. She knows it._ _

__She says, “Tell me everything that happens,” and makes him promise, even though she knows he means it when he just answers, “Yeah.”_ _

__She won’t lie and say it doesn’t hurt when the guard turns against her. It does. These are the people she’d trusted to keep her safe - to keep everyone safe. And now they want more power than they need, which is fucking dangerous. She almost could’ve seen it coming with the way they reacted when she told them they couldn’t run for the council. Maybe she’d been hasty, too; she could’ve just told them they had to do one or the other. But with what she’s hearing now, that wouldn’t have sufficed, either. They clearly want everything they can get their hands on._ _

__Why is everyone all of a sudden acting so _fucking_ stupid?_ _

__Of course Becca would go into labour _now_. _ _

__Harry calls her back, tells her the plan is to arrest her and Will. He sounds terrified. She can’t say she isn’t, too. Apparently Campbell wants Lexie on his side, too; all the candidates against Allie and in agreement that she’s better off out of the picture._ _

__“Arrest me for what?” she breathes. Harry hesitates. “ _For what_ , Harry?”_ _

__“Rigging the election,” he tells her, and her eyes fall closed, hand bracing her against her counter. “Which...You _are_ trying to do.”_ _

__“Fuck that,” she snaps out. “I’m not rigging anything. I’m trying to stop him from running everything and assaulting someone. There’s a difference.”_ _

__“Yeah, well it looks really fucking bad that you asked Lexie to drop out and tried to bargain with her for a spot on the council.”_ _

__Allie grits her teeth. “How would Campbell know that?”_ _

__If Harry’s playing her…_ _

__No. No, he wouldn’t do that._ _

__“He’s talking to her next.”_ _

__Allie rubs her fingers against her forehead. “You need to tell her everything,” she says urgently, and god, she has to fucking trust that he’ll be able to get through to Lexie._ _

__“Allie.”_ _

__“Everything, Harry. About you and I working together, about Elle, and Campbell. You have to tell her.”_ _

__“It’s too late,” he nearly whispers. “They’re already going to meet with her.”_ _

__“Then after,” she says, and she’s definitely begging. “It’s the only way. I don’t trust her for a second, but we have to try. The election is…”_ _

__“Jesus, Allie!” he almost shouts. She wonders where he is. “This isn’t about the fucking election anymore, this is about _you_. You know what he’s capable of, and you’ll be in custody, where he can…”_ _

__She has a fucking shocking revelation, which is that the second she’s in custody, she isn’t going to be able to do any of this. The scheming. The thinking. Harry’s going to have to do all of it._ _

__“You need to fix this,” she says, and he scoffs like that’s ridiculous, which it isn’t. “I won’t be able to do anything. You have to get Lexie on your side. Talk to Luke. You said he didn’t want to go with the guard. You have to...I don’t know. I need to know you can do it.”_ _

__He waits, and Allie’s blood is running cold, and all this shit is fucking backfiring on her. Harry’s the only one she can count on. When that happened, she couldn’t tell you, but she feels like it’s not exactly a result of this situation, either. She thinks it’s been true for a long time and she just didn’t want to see it - was afraid of what it meant if she saw it._ _

__“I can’t fucking stand the thought of you stuck with him,” he says lowly, full of...God, it sounds like he just really cares about her so much. “I’ll figure it out.”_ _

__He sounds more confident than he has through all this._ _

__When they hang up, Allie presses her fingers against her eyes until she sees stars. She trusts that he’s going to try. She’s scared he might not succeed._ _

__… … ..._ _

__Her only ray of hope comes in the form of Helena, which seems honestly so appropriate Allie thinks she couldn’t have planned it better herself. It’s almost cinematic, Helena - beautiful, stoic Helena - sitting in her kitchen and telling her maybe the two of them can fix it. If Harry is working the Lexie angle, Allie can work the Helena angle. If they’re both able to push Luke to the centre, that’s a better position, too. And if anyone can get Luke to do something, it’s Helena, right?_ _

__But god… Allie can’t do that. She needs to keep Helena out of this. God, if everything goes to shit the way she thinks it will, Helena might be the only one who’s smart enough, capable enough and rational enough to lead. If she knows anything, if it comes out that she’s part of all this shit behind the scenes, then no one will trust her, either. Allie really feels like part of the plan has to be to make sure Helena’s hands are clean._ _

__All of this is supposed to be about keeping everyone safe. Allie’s not going to be selfish and jeopardize that._ _

__Allie cries a little in the kitchen until Gordie comes home and she tries to make it look like that’s not what she was just doing, fingers wrapped around her mug like some kind of lifeline._ _

__The first thing Campbell does is ask her where Elle is, which she knew he’d do and makes Allie think maybe she’s not completely losing control of things. If she can predict his behaviour, that means she’s a step ahead of him, right? Maybe two steps, if you consider that the other is that he has no fucking idea she’s onto him._ _

__Allie can’t stand that Elle has to do this. That she has to act like this. Again. She thinks that there’s been some element of performance - of trying to keep him happy and hide her pain - for the entire time Elle and Campbell have been a thing. Allie can’t stand to watch the way he treats Elle._ _

__Not that she doubted it, but the way Elle looks at her after she’s done this vile thing he’s commanded of her lets Allie know that Elle’s 100% in her corner._ _

__Allie really doesn’t know what happens after she and Will are handcuffed to the radiator. It’s the only time she legitimately, seriously worries Harry won’t be able to pull this off. Because it was never meant to go this far. They were supposed to be able to stop it before it got this bad. But now she’s sitting here helpless with Will saying something really fucking naive about how they’re not going to be killed. He’s honestly an idiot if he thinks Campbell won’t do it._ _

__But god. He doesn’t even know this is _entirely_ about Campbell. _ _

__Allie closes her eyes and waits for news from Harry, and her heart sinks when he’s not the one who comes in next. No, she and Will are uncuffed, told to use the bathroom if they have to and get their coats on. Honestly, it’s a courtesy she’s surprised Jason is extending them, but then Luke is downstairs and she thinks maybe he’s got something to do with it. God, she hopes Harry’s been able to get through to him, but she can't tell for sure, and they’re never alone._ _

__She’s watching Harry as he makes this speech about her being trusted. She can tell immediately he’s acting. She doesn’t know how she knows, but she _knows_. He won’t look her in the eye. Maybe that’s it. Like he knows he’ll give them away if he looks at her for any period of time. He looks so genuinely upset when someone hits her with something they’ve thrown, she avoids his eyes, too. _ _

__She honestly can’t tell what Lexie knows. If Lexie knows. Allie feels really fucking out of control, not knowing what’s going on, what’s happening, or if she’ll be released or where they’re being taken next. Or, honestly, why they were dragged out in the first place. Allie’s noticed Campbell standing closeby, of course, but she hasn’t seen Elle. God, _where’s Elle_?_ _

__She’s never been happier to see Grizz ever, and that’s saying something. She feels like she could fucking cry when he reports that they’ve found a way to survive. And if she can be selfish for a second, she thinks Grizz will be able to influence people, too, with all this shit. He’s always been the smartest of the guard, and he’ll be able to make them see this for what it is._ _

__“Hey, guys. C’mon. Let’s go.” Harry gives the order, but it’s someone else who’s tugging her away by the arm._ _

__Allie looks over, sees the look on Harry’s face. She can’t read it. She’s desperate to know what he’s doing - what’s happening. If he’s managed to...god, to what? To save her? She thinks what he’s really trying to communicate is a hope that this will all work out. Which...Is not exactly heartening. She’d really love some indication that he has a single idea how to make this work. She stares at him a little too long, hoping he might do something. But he doesn’t. His face just stays the same, this oddly sort of worried look that is not comforting. But she can act, too, and actually, maybe it’s really not much of a stretch to be staring at him like she can’t believe she’s being dragged around like this._ _

__In the car as they drive away, Allie turns to look out the window so she doesn’t have to look at Will and so he won’t try to talk to her. She really, really wants to talk to Grizz. Grizz and Helena could try to talk some sense into people. She wonders if Harry would let them know what’s going on. She wonders if Lexie _must_ be in on it, because of the way she’d been so insistent that nothing change. _ _

__Allie’s exhausted. She can’t turn her mind off enough to rest at all._ _

__Hours later, when she and Will are still by the radiator and no one’s come to give them food or update them or mention how they’re expected to sleep, Harry pushes into the room in a rush, talking to someone who’s trailing behind him, and he says, “Fuck off,” and closes the door. Allie thinks it was Clark. Harry’s eyes land on her immediately and he looks so relieved it sets her at ease, somehow. He’s defying Campbell and the guard to be here. Will’s tense. Allie doesn’t care._ _

__Harry still has his coat on, but he kneels down in front of her, takes her face in his hands and kisses her with Will right there. Fuck. And then Harry’s pulling back, moving his thumb up against the mark on her forehead._ _

__“You’re okay,” he says, like he’s just confirmed it himself and needed to say it out loud. Allie doesn’t nod or acknowledge it. She’s just looking at him, and then his hands fall away and he places them on his thighs. “Fuck. It’s working.”_ _

__Her eyes light up. She can almost physically feel it. “What?”_ _

__“ _What_?” Will asks, a hard edge to his voice that Allie doesn’t like or appreciate. She doesn’t spare him a glance. She’s guessing she has time to explain the nature of her relationship with Harry to him in a minute. She doesn’t think Harry’s here to spring her free. _ _

__“Lexie and Elle, me and Luke are...We’re figuring it out. Tomorrow, Elle’s going to address the town. Luke’s going to arrest him. Luke’s telling Helena tonight so they can prepare a trial for Campbell.” Allie’s heart is beating hard in her chest, and she feels tears in her eyes. All this sounds so fucking simple she feels like she fucked everything up by not just doing this in the first place. “Elle’s going to back me up that Campbell was giving me shit and blackmailed me into running, and that you only arrested her to keep her away from him.”_ _

__“What about the election?” Allie asks._ _

__“ _Allie,_ ” Will interrupts, and like, yeah, he’s definitely owed an explanation, but that can wait, okay?_ _

__Harry shakes his head. “No election. Technically, Lexie and I are leading. Interim Mayors, or something. But she’s going to tell everyone that can’t be permanent. She thinks we can say that Campbell was the one influencing the election, not you.”_ _

__“Harry,” Allie breathes, then smiles, and she sees a hint of a grin on his lips, too._ _

__“And that you weren’t a perfect leader but you were obviously just trying to keep everyone safe.”_ _

__He wipes the tear from her eye as soon as it falls, and then Will clears his throat and Harry cuts him a look that makes Allie legitimately laugh. It’s like Harry’s annoyed Will’s intruding, even though he’s literally incapable of not being here for this._ _

__“Will someone tell me what the fuck is going on?” he asks._ _

__Harry meets Allie’s eyes, takes a breath, then kisses her again before he stands. “I’m sorry. Tonight...I can’t do anything without Campbell finding out. He thinks I’m here to…” He stops himself, shakes his head. “He thinks I’m here to just fuck with your head. Gave me pointers, actually.”_ _

__Allie shouldn’t laugh. It’s completely fucked up to laugh._ _

__He gives her one last look before he leaves._ _

__Will’s staring at her._ _

__She tells him everything. Whispers it in quiet tones so there’s no chance anyone else could hear. Everything about her and Harry working together. Actually, everything about her and Harry full stop. Well, most of it. Not the details. But that they’re something. Will seems bothered by it, either because he’s hurt over the fact that he’s been trying to make something happen between them, or because he doesn't understand how she could forgive Harry. What he thinks doesn’t matter, though. She doesn’t need him to understand. And then she tells him about this whole series of events, how she’s known all along. He’s really good and pissed at her for it. Which is honestly kind of fair. He’s also cuffed to a radiator and it’s also partly her fault._ _

__He says, “I hope you know what the fuck you’re doing,” and then doesn’t say anything else, turns away from her as much as he can._ _

__Allie chews her bottom lip and thinks about Harry._ _

__… … …_ _

__Harry’s not there when she’s released. Grizz comes, looks concerned and upset, but also like he knows what's happened and has some feelings about it that they’ll probably talk about later. She thinks he’s suspected for a while that she and Harry have had something going on, he’s just too polite to ever have said anything, and knows what it means to actually value privacy and not want to put his nose where it doesn’t belong. She doesn’t think she would’ve hid anything if he’d asked._ _

__Will walks out of the room first, leaves them behind. Grizz seems to know what’s going on there, too._ _

__Luke is here. He looks like he wants to talk to Allie, but she just gives him a little smile and knows they’ll cover all that off another time. She’s not mad at him. She knows what happened. She knows that Clark and Jason have been implicated with Campbell because no one could reasonably vouch they didn’t do it with the exact intentions they’re accused of - to take more power than they reasonably needed._ _

__When they walk into the church, into what looks like some kind of closed meeting, with Helena, Harry, Lexie, Gordie, Bean and Gwen. Allie...She just…_ _

__The way Harry smiles when he sees her almost knocks her back a step._ _

__“Hey,” she says, slips into an empty seat, the one next to Lexie, and gives the girl what she hopes is a friendly look. “What’re we talking about?”_ _

__Lexie sort of smiles back. They’ll talk, too. She’s sure they will. Clear the air and put conflicts aside. Allie just wants them all to work together._ _

__“Harry has some ideas about governance,” Lexie offers, and Allie turns to look at him. She turns too quickly. Everyone at this table seems to know...Seems to _know_. She wonders who he’s told. She wonders why she’s not mad he did it without consulting her. _ _

__(When she thinks about that later, she’ll realize it’s because she both doesn’t have anything to hide, and knows she doesn’t want them to stop.)_ _

__“I’ve been thinking,” he says, and then looks away from Allie like he can’t keep looking at her and keep his focus. So that’s kind of weirdly hot. “My mom was on the board of this non-profit, right? They had a board chair, obviously, but voted on everything, and then also had committees for things. I feel like that could work here.”_ _

__Allie grins, presses her lips together, and then notices when he looks her way._ _

__Luke asks, “You want to run the town like an organization?”_ _

__He shrugs his shoulders. “It’s just an idea.”_ _

__Bean smiles at him. “It’s a good idea,” she says, and Allie...god, why is she so fucking emotional. Harry giving a shit and showing it and also being taken seriously by people is just...it’s a lot._ _

__And Bean’s right. It is a good idea. The board could be made up of a bunch of people who then vote in a chair, and those people would make up smaller committees. It wouldn’t just have to be this group on the board, either. And they could set term limits, but also find ways to maintain some consistency. Plus, keeping the same committees in title - even if they add new ones - would help people feel some sense of stability, like everything isn’t changing all at once. Allie’s almost jealous she didn’t think of this herself._ _

__When this meeting, or whatever they’re calling it, is done, Allie leans her hand on the back of her chair and talks to Helena, who’s expressing disappointment that Allie didn’t come to her. Allie’s explaining her reasons, and Helena looks like she understands, but still disagrees with the choice._ _

__Allie feels a hand on her shoulder, then sees the little look on Helena’s face. When she turns around, Harry’s standing there looking down at her. He grins, glances at the mark on her forehead, she thinks, and then down to her lips._ _

__“Wanna come over?” he asks quietly, and Allie...Yeah, all she’s wanted for days is to be alone with him. All she’s wanted for a long time is to be alone with him, she just wasn’t really ready. So she nods, and Harry takes a step back, but then also waits for her to fall into step next to him._ _

__They drive to his place, and she hasn’t been in his car since that first time, since fugitive. He turns on the seat warmer when she slides onto the leather seat and complains about the cold, and it makes her laugh. This level of luxury is so wild to her and would have been even before, but _now_ it just feels _foolish_ and she hates that she likes it so much. _ _

__Harry reaches for her hand over the console, then rests their hands against the gear shift, and she really likes that too much, too._ _

__His house is empty - all traces of the 19 other people who lived there are gone. Allie looks around, then turns to look at him._ _

__“I’ll take some roommates,” he says like a promise, like she’s still singularly in charge and about to reprimand him, or something. He sets his hands on her hips and she drapes her arms over his shoulders and tilts her head a little as she smiles at him. “But…fewer.”_ _

__She laughs, nods, and just really, really wants to kiss him._ _

__“You know, you kind of saved the day,” she says, and he shakes his head, averts her eyes._ _

__“I was kind of just trying to save you,” he admits, almost whispering. Allie feels something expand in her chest. It’s this overwhelming feeling of adoration for him that she should pay a little more attention to. She should. Maybe she will. Later._ _

__“My hero,” she says, teasingly, and Harry rolls his eyes and looks quite annoyed, but then she leans in closer, brushes her nose against his. “There’s really no one else here?” Harry hesitates just a fraction of a second before shaking his head. Allie wets her lips, likes the way his hand slides up her back. “Harry.”_ _

__“Mm.”_ _

__She wants him to kiss her but he’s not. He’s just standing there with her, all close but not close enough. So she asks, “Are you nervous, or something?”_ _

__She’s kind of teasing, but kind of not._ _

__He groans, pulls away and Allie laughs too hard, won’t let go of his hand and then moves so she’s pressing her body all up against his, kisses him before they delay it any more._ _

__When he pulls away, he pushes her hair back, says, “I’m glad you’re okay,” and yeah, Allie is really going to have to pay more attention to this feeling later._ _

__She says, “I’m glad you’re okay, too,” and thinks she might fall a little harder as she watches his eyes slip closed._ _

__They have a lot of stuff to work through. Not just the two of them, and them as individuals, but the entire town, and however it’s going to be run, and the farm, and...There’s a lot to think about, and Allie, maybe appropriately, is happy to have this victory. Not the victory over Campbell. No, she’s not claiming that. For one thing, it’s not over. For another, she absolutely didn’t act alone and in fact barely had a hand in it. She thinks there’s more work now than there was before. She thinks it’s going to be hard, and exhausting, and frustrating._ _

__No, the victory is _this_. The soft way Harry says her name when he asks if she wants to go to his room. The way he smiles when she pushes her hand into his hair. The way his hands still shake just the slightest bit when he goes to take off her shirt. The way she thinks she can tell by this look he’s giving her that he’s feeling the same way she is about them. That he isn’t ignoring his feelings for her. Maybe that he hasn’t in a while. _ _

__They have a lot of stuff to work through._ _

__But then Harry takes his thumb, rubs it over the bridge of her nose but doesn’t say anything, and god, since when do they have so many inside things, secrets just between them?_ _

__It’s been since the start, hasn’t it?_ _

__“Don’t worry,” she says, slides her hands up his bare back as he lies there between her legs. “I’m thinking about you.”_ _

__He presses his face against her neck, kisses her there and says, “Good,” and Allie is not surprised but is also happy that he hasn’t asked her to stop._ _


End file.
